


A Little Bird Told Me

by Olor_et_Luna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 92,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olor_et_Luna/pseuds/Olor_et_Luna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a comedian, Derek is a ball player, they meet, there are mishaps and mayhem, "The Wii Incident of 2010", sports, video games, coffee, arguments friendship, love, commitment. It's huge, and it's not instant gratification, AU/AH EVENTUAL Sterek, they're all here, maybe not how you're used to them, but they are all here.</p><p>A multi-media, multi-format, socially networked fic.<br/>Attempting to regain footing on an update schedule, shooting for at least Thursday or Friday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n- obviously, I don’t own Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, or any of the other Teen Wolf characters, I am just playing with them. The LA Dodgers are not mine, either, nor is the Nintendo Wii, although I do own a Wii.
> 
>  
> 
> This wouldn’t exist without Cinematicnomad and Katieepretzel, both on Tumblr. My love for them is bordering on obscene, indecent, and creepy.
> 
> The twitter handles that are used in the story exist on Twitter- there will never be a tweet in the story that doesn’t appear on twitter, however there may be tweets on twitter that aren’t in the story. Of course, the timeline on the tweets will be different there than here, as the accounts are not 2 years old. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr, olor-et-luna there, too. Why would you want to find me on Tumblr? I’ll tell you why, you don’t have to follow me, but check me out, as I will be posting chapters there, with pics that correlate to the chapter, somehow. Sometimes I will post songs, as well.
> 
> So, without further ado,
> 
> A Little Bird Told Me

**Prologue:**

 

_July 2012_

“standup_stiles: Swing and a miss, again!#noshewon’tholditagainstyou

howlinhale: @standup_stiles really, a ball reference is the best you can do?

standup_stiles:@howlinhale Oh, was I referencing your balls? Didn’t realize you struck out last night.

howlinhale:@standup_stiles contrary to what you seem to think, sarcasm isn’t a love language. Ouch.

standup_stiles:@howlinhale I didn’t hear any complaints last night #andhowISyourcousindoing

howlinhale:@standup_stiles how you could hear ANYTHING over the amount of noise you always make is beyond me”

That damned anchorwoman was smirking by the time she finished reading the Twitter exchange.  While she read, a series of pictures flashed on the background screen, Stiles and Derek separately, at the field after the now infamous Wii debacle that started the whole thing, and then, two nights ago at the club, where neither was expecting to see the other.

“Your fans see this exchange and the pages upon pages of others like it as proof of a relationship, that your meetings in public are not coincidental. Do you have an answer for them?”

Stiles just looked at his shoes, for once in his life at a loss for words.  Derek leaned back and laughed, “What, if we’re friends, we get called out, and if we hate each other, we get called out?  Where is the fairness in that?  Yeah, Stiles and I hang out on occasion. Yeah, we tweet each other, and I am fairly certain he’s the one that’s been leaving horrible messages on my manager’s blog.” Derek turned to look at Stiles, “To be fair, I think I may have dated his manager at one point, so I guess it evens out.”

“Wait, you think you may have dated Lydia? _You can’t remember_?” Stiles head shot up, his attention focused on Derek.  “Dude, I am never accusing you of striking out again.  As for the messages on Scott’s blog, he’s been my best bud longer than he’s been your manager.”  Stiles relaxed, he felt sure of his place again.  He and Derek stayed up all night discussing if they were ready to go public, knowing they were going to be on the morning show to promote another All-Star Break charity event.  It had been two years since Scott talked them both into what later became known as “The Wii Incident of 2010”, eighteen months since they grudgingly became friends, and six months since they started dating.  It wouldn’t have any impact on Stiles’ career at all - there are so many ‘out’ actors and comedians that adding one more to the list wouldn’t matter in the slightest.  Derek’s career, though, would be different story.

**Chapter 1:**

_June, 2010_

“Stiles Stilinski, you will put down that coffee and give me your full attention right now!”

“Lydia Martin, you will refrain from being a humorous banshee before I’ve had my coffee!” Stiles replied, before yawning and trying to find where he’d set his coffee when he answered the phone.  He found it, took a gulp, and continued “Now, friend since forever and agent mine, what can I do for you at oh-early hundred hours?”

“You know that the All-star break is next month, right? And the movie you are in is about baseball-“

“’S’not about baseball, Lyd, it’s about five friends, who used to play-“

“Stiles, sweetie, don’t.  I’m your agent, stop the junket speech I helped you write, and listen.  Your movie has a baseball theme to it, there is a new baseball game being released for the Wii, and because of Scott, we have a connection to the Dodgers.  During the All-Star Break, we’re going to the stadium where you and Derek Hale will play a little ball on the Wii, play a little ball in real life, and then we’ll auction off the Wii, the game, tickets to the movie, and tickets to a game.  The proceeds are going to a cancer research group.”

Stiles knew he was going to agree.  Lydia was his agent, but she was also his friend.  They’d met on the playground in third grade, back in Beacon Hills. Stiles had loved her instantly, thought she was an angel, the woman he was going to marry, and the best thing since ice-cream (and he was eight, he really loved ice-cream).  Lydia hadn’t known what to make of the skinny, hyper boy who always had something to say, was always moving, and seemed to orbit her.  As they got older, she’d thought of him as a best friend and a brother, so when they were barely teenagers and he’d confessed his undying love, she hadn’t laughed, she’d just told him no. When the next year, he’d confessed his undying love and lust for her boyfriend, she again, had simply told him no, that she loved him, and that she would help him find his own. Lydia also helped Stiles tell his dad and mom, Scott, and whomever else needed to know. No one would dare say a bad thing about Lydia or her friends, for fear of risking her possessive, protective wrath.

When Stiles was 14, his mom died.  Cancer. He and his dad had done what they could but it was Lydia and Scott, and Scott’s mom, Melissa that had held Stiles together. They’d made sure he ate, got to class, and didn’t take too much or too little Adderall. Lydia had also appointed herself his protector and made sure that Stile’s didn’t do anything too stupid, boyfriend wise.  Stiles would have agreed just because Lydia and Scott asked, but making it for cancer research, that cinched it.

“I assume that you already told Scott I’d do it? Do I even want to know how he got Derek ‘Wolfman’ Hale on board with this?”

“From what I gather, he offered up Allison’s fabulous homemade Shepherd’s Pie, and reminded Derek that he is his **_AGENT_** and therefore, like me, the person who looks out for his best interests.” Lydia paused, “How do you know he’s called Wolfman?”

“Lydia, being gay doesn’t mean I automatically have no interest in sports!” Stiles swore he could hear Lydia cock her eyebrow and roll her eyes.  “Okay, so I, personally, have little interest in sports, but honestly, have you seen him, Lyd? Have you? The man is gorgeous, and when we were doing research for the movie, I watched a lot of his game film, very closely, over and over, from different angles.  I am sure he’s an ass in real life, but I am also sure that in real life, his ass is spectacular.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus A/N- there are some tweets up at standup_stiles and howlinnhale that are not in the story yet, they will be in the next chapter or two. Also, the tweets in the prologue are not on Twitter yet, as we are not that far into the events of the story yet. You won’t see them ‘live’ on twitter until they are relevant. Thank you for reading thus far, and I really hope you stick with it, and you like it. Kisses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I don’t own Teen wolf. Jeff Davis? He is one of the most precious people in the world for putting such fabulous toys out for me to borrow, though.
> 
> Katieepretzel is my beta, and I love her. She is….me…but younger, and smarter, and sassier.
> 
> This chapter introduces some more characters, and has some lines in it that made me cry laughing, so I really hope you like reading it nearly as much as I liked writing it. 
> 
> All other information from the chapter 1 A/N still applies, btw.
> 
> Here you go, A Little Bird Told Me, chapter 2

 

_June, 2010_

It was seven am on the only day off Derek had had in weeks, and the shrill noise coming from the general area of his bedside table would just _not_ shut up. Derek slapped his hand on top of his phone and somehow managed to answer it and set it to speaker before dropping it somewhere next to the bed. Maybe if he had ever removed the pillow from over his head, he could tell you how he did it.

“Derek, I need you to do something for me, ok, I need you to find your coffee, and then pay attention.”

“Scott, I need _you_ to do something for _me,_ ok? I need you to NOT CALL ME this early on a day that I could have slept in!” Derek snapped in the general direction of his phone.

“Dude, you and I both know that you don’t have anyone in bed with you, okay?” Derek didn’t answer. “Oh my god, you do have someone in bed, and I just messed everything up, didn’t I? Fuck, Allison’s gonna kill me!”

“ _I’m_ gonna kill you if you don’t shut up! I’m alone, just like always, which you should know as I was with you and Allison last night.” Derek growled and shifted the pillow he was under, just a bit.  “Now why the fuck are you calling so early?”

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you hop in the shower and make a fresh pot of coffee, since you _obviously_ just woke up-“

“Wow, did you figure that out all on your lonesome?” Derek snarled.

“-and Allison and I will come over with some of her freshly baked cinnamon rolls. C’mon, she just pulled them out of the oven.”

“Wait, what are you gonna ask me to do?”

“All right, see you in an hour!”

“SCOTT!”

Derek sat up, and looked over the edge of his bed for his phone. He found it on the floor, face down, next to his alarm clock, and his glasses. Shit, he hoped he didn’t scratch the glasses when he knocked them down. Yep, Scott disconnected, which meant that he had an hour, maybe less, to shower, get dressed, and make coffee. Derek scrubbed his hands over his face in a half-hearted attempt to rub the sleep from his eyes. Maybe coffee first, he decided, and put on his glasses. Derek loved Scott and Allison. Even though Scott was his manager on paper it was really the two of them together. Scott was utterly hopeless without Allison, a fact only proved by Scott, well, being Scott. When he and Scott first met, Scott was a sports business major taking classes to be a sports manager, Derek was playing baseball, and they were both looking for new roommates.  Each of their current ones weren’t working out -Scott had a pre-med roommate who demanded absolute silence while he studied; Derek had a kid who he was certain threw things at him in his sleep. (There was an incident with peach pits, of all things, that proved his theory.) They met in the coffee shop they both hung out at to avoid being in the dorms, they got along, somehow understood each other, so they ditched the dorms and went in on an apartment together.  When rumors started that Derek might be getting offers from some of the major league teams, he’d gone to Scott with his questions, and their working relationship had thrived ever since. 

A few nights before Derek was getting ready to sign on the deal that Scott helped him work out, this pretty little thing he vaguely remembered from last semester’s lit class brought him cookies, and asked HIM, Derek Hale, if _he_ could introduce her to _Scott_. SCOTT. Derek tried a cookie while he mulled it over, and decided if it meant more delectable baked goods in his future, he could _certainly_ take her to meet his roommate slash manager slash friend.  Allison and Scott took to each other like a moth to a flame, like peanut butter to chocolate, like Derek to anything that Allison cooked up in her magical kitchen.  She was a sports nutritionist who loved to make comfort food; Scott was a sports manager; Derek was an athlete - the three of them fit together like they were made to be this odd little clichéd group.

Under moments of only the most extreme pressure will Derek admit that Scott is his friend, that he likes Allison for more than just her food,   and that three of them are family, the only family outside of his cousins that he has.  His parents and his sister died in a house fire, (the official case file says suspected arson, Derek’s version reads “definitely arson, you incompetent fuckwit”) right after he turned 18. His cousins Erica and Jackson gave him a place to stay until he started college, and stored his stuff for the brief stint in the dorms before he and Scott managed to claw their way away from the crazies.  Strictly speaking, Derek didn’t _need_ a roommate, he had money from the life insurance and property insurance payouts, but he hated to use it for anything extravagant.  Living alone in an apartment as a college student classified as extravagant. It also classified as lonely.  Even now that Derek makes pro-athlete money, and star-player ‘I can throw a ball so hard it catches fire’ money at that he still hates to spend money on anything excessive.  The only reason he doesn’t still live with Scott is that Scott married Allison, and Allison said that no matter how much she loved Derek, she wouldn’t have him trying to sleep in her kitchen, at least not _again_.

Despite his brash and Scott-filled wake-up call, Derek managed to get his coffee made, shower, throw on a  t-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama pants, and get into a reasonably pleasant mood (for him)- right before Scott and Allison walked through the door.

“You’re both lucky I’m wearing pants right now.” Derek snorted, only a little snarl and growl evident in his tone.

“Honey, I told you we should have left 5 minutes sooner!” Scott had to duck to avoid the spoon Derek lobbed at him from across the counter and Allison just raised an eyebrow at them both. Derek took the box of cinnamon rolls from Allison, set them on the counter, and scooped Allison into a hug. “Hey, Al, do me a favor and keep him distracted long enough for me to actually eat and get some coffee in me, yeah? God, those smell delicious.” Allison nodded as he set her down and made her way over to where Scott stood. Derek practically inhaled two of the giant, frosting-drenched rolls and washed down _several_ mugs of coffee before he looked at Scott. “All right, ass, I’m awake and paying attention, now what do you want?”

“Here’s the deal, Der,” Scott completely ignored the look he got for calling him Der, “The all-star break is coming up and, I want you to do this charity event at the stadium. It involves the new Wii game, playing some live ball, taking some photos and then doing an auction. Easy-peasy”

“All right, I can manage that, but you just said easy-peasy and you never say that when it really _is_ easy-peasy so what’s the downside?”

“Downside? Why does there have to be a downside? Can’t my wife and I just come over for a morning chat over coffee and cinnamon deliciousness without there being a downside? As I told you, easy, you and some fans and Stiles Stilinski-“

“No.  If Stiles is there, then Lydia’ll be there, and she’ll ask about Jackson.  I’ll have to tell her that he’s still single and still pining over her and just…no.”

“Look, you know they’re my best friends next to you.  I grew up with them, and it’s really important to them, to me, that you do this.” Scott pulled out his best puppy face and Allison looked away; Derek assumed she was trying to stay out of it.

“McCall…, I know he’s your friend, really, I get that, and I know that Lydia is your friend too, but after what happened with her and Jackson, I don’t know if I can be civil to her.”

“Please Wolfman? What if Allison makes you her Shepherd’s pie?”

“The homemade one? With the crust AND the mashed potatoes on top? Ground lamb? All those veggies with the gravy? The one that no one believes you would make, as it isn’t all ‘healthy’,” it was a testament to the amazingness of her pie that Derek actually used air quotes around healthy, “and not at all appropriately nutritious for a star athlete like myself?” God Derek loved that pie.

“Yes, Derek, I will make you the super-special, super-secret, homemade Shepherd’s pie if you do this.” Allison said rather sweetly as she turned around to shoot a silent glare at her husband.

“Fine, go call Lydia, tell her I’m game.” Derek grabbed another roll and shoved half of it in his mouth to keep from saying anything else; partly afraid of what else Allison’s Shepherd’s Pie would get him to agree to.  Scott walked to the other room, presumably to call Lydia, and left Derek and Allison alone, presumably for her to further one of their undoubtedly sneaky little plans.

“You know, you always have an excuse with him; you always have to leave before he shows up, or show up after he leaves. It is amazing how good you are at avoiding meeting Stiles.” Allison spoke to him quietly while she refilled his coffee and got another roll out of the box. “He won’t use you in his stand-up if you ask him not to, I promise.” She sighed and took a sip of coffee. “Derek…he isn’t a bad person and he isn’t a gossip.  You see Lydia socially, usually without even complaining,and she broke Jackson’s heart. But up until now you’ve managed to not meet Stiles.” Allison took a deliberate bite of the roll she had laid out for him. “Why is that, Derek?”

“She said Stiles took too much of her time. Figure it out, Allison.” Derek opened his mouth to explain further, but then his phone pinged with an alert.

 standup_stiles: @howlinhale you, me, Wii, baseball, it's on, you ready?

Derek smirked before replying.

 howlinhale: @standup_stiles More ready than you, I’m sure, little man

Still amused by their little exchange, Derek grabbed the last of the cinnamon roll off the counter. “Allison, I’ll be meeting him soon enough, don’t worry.  Everything will be just fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no way in hell this chapter would have happened without katieepretzel. She is my beta, my comma wrangler, my keeper of time and space (my tenses are all over the place), my random quip generator, ego stroker, maker of random comments and just the right time to crack my shit up.  
> Basically, I love her to pieces, she is a younger, sassier, much better put together me.  
> As always, standup_stiles and howlinhale at twitter may have things happening, and my tumblr has pics, sometimes music (though not yet) and so on.

_A week before the all-star break, July, 2010_

Lydia, Allison, Stiles and Scott were all at the McCall house, playing games on the Wii under the guise of research and preparation (Stiles was always the ultimate professional, occasional moments of private ass ogling aside) socializing and just relaxing on a warm, sunny summer day.  Stiles was proving to be rather adept at a game he‘d be attempting to promote and tie into his movie, in a week.

“Damn bro, you bat, you pitch, you this good at catching too?” Scott asked, without thinking. Stiles sputtered and lost control of the Wii controller, sending it flying towards Scott’s head. Scott ducked just in time, Allison and Lydia were laughing so hard they almost fell off the couch, and Stiles just blushed.

“Scott, you didn’t just ask what I think you asked, did you? I mean, I am flattered that you’re taking such an interest, but you’re like a brother to me. Oh, okay, I can still give you details if you really want them!  Normally, I catch as a rule,” Stiles breathed and threw in a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, “but I also have an extra-special secret bat handling technique. I could show it to Alli-“

“NO! I am not listening anymore, lalalalalalalalalalala you can’t make me hear this!” Scott clapped his hands over his ears, scrunched up his eyes and turned away. Allison and Lydia _did_ fall off the couch laughing this time and were rolling on the floor in a poor attempt to contain themselves.  After a few minutes everyone calmed down and Allison pounced.

“So, Stiles…why don’t you come in the kitchen and help me put together the salad?  I want to hear all about your thoughts on finally getting to meet Derek next week.”

“I have thoughts on this?” Stiles squeaked out. “I’m not aware of any so I don’t think I have them, and even if I did, they would be boring, _so very boring_ , definitely not worthy of kitchen time!” He knew that as soon as he entered the kitchen he would be in some sort of magical land where you cannot lie and agree to ridiculous things without even thinking about saying no.  Stiles was fully capable of cooking amazing food on his own, his pasta sauces were legendary among the actors he’s worked with and his friends would cause a stampede to get to his pancakes. He was an Olympic gold medalist the kitchen, but Allison was some sort of Grand High Master, who looked at his shiny gold medal and laughed. Allison _let_ _him_ have the awesome pasta sauces and to-die-for pancakes, he was sure of it.

“Of course you have thoughts on it. You _always_ have thoughts. I remember when you got to work with Kevin Smith, and you were afraid you would be so excited you’d pee yourself? Oh, and then when you were asked to open for Lewis Black, and you almost lost your voice because you were running around my backyard screaming in joy? So, thoughts, tell me, and while you tell me, dice the avocado into three quarter inch cubes and make sure you squeeze the lemon over them so they don’t brown.”

Stiles gaped at her for a moment.  No one ever believed this side of Allison existed until they were faced with it themselves.  He knew the moment she asked him into her kitchen - _her precious inner sanctum_ -that he was screwed. Well, not literally screwed, what with her being married to Scott and him really preferring men, not to mention the fact that that Lydia would just tear him to shreds if he…crap, he’s in Allison’s kitchen, he definitely forgot to take his Adderall this morning, and the only person who can ever reel him in is sitting in the other room, probably too afraid to enter the Kitchen of Secrets.

“Stiles? The avocado won’t dice itself, and you still aren’t talking.” Allison’s words were harsh, but her tone was gentle.

“Just, what if he’s an ass, or what if he has issues with gays, or what if he doesn’t like me, what if I make an ass of myself, I am really good at making an ass of myself, you’ve seen me, and what if-“

“Stop for a second.” Allison gently laughed to herself as she scooped the avocado off of the cutting board and set down two cucumbers, “peel them, then half inch chunks, and please continue.”

Stiles took a breath. “What if I can’t stop talking and I say something terribly embarrassing on TV or in front of the press again?  What if I come out on accident? I don’t even know why I haven’t yet, it shouldn’t even matter but people always assume I’m dating my female costars or _Lydia_ so really, and that’s pretty flattering, you know? It’s not like I’m settling down with anyone, not like I have a boyfriend whose feelings will get hurt, but I am just not ready to make an announcement even though I’m pretty sure everyone already knows.  What if he doesn’t know though, what if Derek Hale doesn’t know I’m gay, and I out myself, and he has some macho star-athlete freak out?” Stiles had acquired an audience by the time he finished - Lydia and Scott had heard the knife and raced to the kitchen to watch Stiles do his weird thing where he focuses on a million things at once and somehow doesn’t mess any of them up.

Stiles looked down, and saw a pile of green peels, two different textures, an avocado pit but no avocado, and a pile of neatly diced cucumber. He looked to the left and saw Lydia and Scott standing just outside the entryway to the kitchen. They know its powers…they know to stay away.

“Stiles, honestly!” Allison admonished while she finished up with the rest of the ingredients. “First, Derek is not going to be bothered by your being gay, if he even does figure it out. Much like some other people in this house, he _can_ miss things that are blatantly obvious, and you being gay? Not even obvious. Anyways, he thinks that Lydia left Jackson for you, like _for_ you.” She reached up and grabbed four bowls. “You won’t do anything there that’ll stand out from how you usually are in public, but I think it would be shocking for you to NOT say something stupidly inappropriate.” Allison grabbed the salad dressing and set it next to the bowls. “Lydia, since you’re just standing there, could you pull another chair up to the patio table? Thank you!” Allison went into the fridge and pulled out a massive plate of sandwiches. “You know, I asked him why he was avoiding you, should I ask you the same thing?”

“I’m not avoiding him. I was at your wedding, he was there too. I’m just not, you know, _actively_ seeking him out.”

Allison picked up the platter and held it in front of him. “Swear on the sandwiches Stiles. Swear on the home made sourdough and honey wheat, the gouda and the black forest ham, the heirloom tomatoes, red onion, baby greens and chili-garlic aioli, swear to me that you’re not avoiding him, and you’ll try and get along-for Scott’s sake, if nothing else.” Allison may have sounded serious, but the smile gave her away.

“Damn woman! All right, I swear on the tasty plate of sammiches that I am not purposely avoiding him!”

“Good. Now let’s eat.” Allison grabbed the salad and almost skipped to the patio, dragging Scott along with her and leaving Stiles alone to question what the hell had just happened.

“Stiles get out here! She said we can’t eat until you’re at the table, something about announcements before meals or some crap…OW!” Stiles laughed as he pushed himself off the counter. He could almost guarantee that the reason for Scott’s ‘ow’ was Lydia or Allison (whichever was closest to him) smacking him in the head.

“All right, I’m here, let’s announce then eat, shall we?”

“Lydia and I think that having a party after the event is a good idea. It will be a great way for everyone involved to relax, right Lydia?” Allison asked.

“Right, it’ll be a nice way to unwind, and then we‘ll have everyone in one place when we total the auctions so that we can get a few ‘candids’ to release of your reactions to how much was raised.” One look at the grimace on Stiles’ face and Lydia added, “It’s happening, Stiles, so don’t even think of arguing.” Lydia had her ‘I have spoken, and my will be done’ face on. It was a look as formidable as Allison’s ‘This is my kitchen now answer my extremely personal and undoubtedly revealing question,’ face.

Stiles looked at Scott with his ‘I am going to punch you if you’ve been keeping secrets’ face.

Scott was wearing his default ‘what?’ face.

“Scott, did you?”

“No, man, no clue, are you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, will he?”

“Who do you think is gonna cook?”

“Yeah, wait, if I wasn’t?”

“Same way, sorry man.” Scott panned his gaze over the table of food with his last statement.

The two women at the table watched the exchange between the two men. They were used to this. They didn’t always understand, but they accepted that Stiles and Scott had their own unique shorthand that no one but the other understood.

Stiles looked at Lydia and Allison, and then sighed. “I asked Scott if he knew about the party, he told me no, I assured him I was onboard, he let me know you, Allison, were cooking, which is how he’ll get Derek on board, and I asked if your cooking would have been used against me had I not agreed, he admitted it would, and then reminded me of where we were right now.” Stiles explained, after seeing the looks Lydia and Allison shared. “Now, I need to eat. I have a week before I discover new and _oh-so exciting_ ways to make an idiot of myself.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeff Davis owns everything, up to and including my soul.  
> Katieepretzel is the best beta, a wonderful friend, someone who sends me funny and sexy things when I need them, an excellent commentator, comma wrangler, anchor in the space-time continuum, and hopefully maker of awesome pancakes.  
> I honestly cannot express how important she is in this not sucking.
> 
> I lost all my ability to even begin to explain what y'all reading and liking this does for me. Thank you so much.  
> Oh, before I forget, in this chapter, there is an incident....involving a Wii....

_All-Star Break Charity Event, July, 2010_

“So, you’re the Wolfman?”

“And you are the not so little Funny Man?”

“So, you _haven’t_ been avoiding me?”

“So, you’ve _not_ been fucking your manager?”

“HOLD UP!” Lydia yelled. “No one has been fucking me, thank you very much!” Everybody stopped what they were doing; Derek and Stiles stopped their posturing and just stared at Lydia for a moment; the still photographer dropped his camera.

“Lyd, thank you, so much, for ensuring that _nothing_ I do today will be the most inappropriate or awkward thing to happen here. Thank you.” Stiles managed to squeak out without laughing.

_Ten minutes earlier_

Stiles and Derek’s first introduction did not go well. It wasn’t horrible, but it was decidedly not good. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly Derek and Stiles that were the issue.

Lydia strode into the complex with Stiles dawdling behind her; she was completely in her element. “Alright, we’re here, where’s Derek so I can introduce him to Stiles and go over how this is going to play out for the cameras.  Also, where is the still photographer?” Lydia handled most of the publicist duties for Stiles as well as being his manager. She often joked that she’d been managing him since they were kids and the only difference was that now she got paid for it, and very well so.  She looked around the stadium, spinning on her very tall, very expensive, Manalo Blahnik heels. “Derek? There you are come here please.” She spun around again, slower this time.  “Where are Scott and Allison?”

“I don’t care, Allison, it crossed a line!” Stiles cringed. He couldn’t see Scot, but he could hear him. That was never good.

The couple stomped into the stadium, oblivious to their surroundings. “Ah, there they are! Come along, come along, and we’ll get this done, yeah?” Lydia said, as if Scott and Allison weren’t having one of their once-in-a-blue-moon fights in semi-public company.

Allison broke apart from her husband as soon as she realized other people were there. “Oh, hey Lyd, you look _really great_ today, and look, I brought brownies!”

Both Derek and Stiles whipped their heads around when they heard Allison simpering at Lydia; they knew that Allison only talked like that when she thought she was in trouble. But the need to work outweighed the need to watch shit go down, so Stiles wiped his hands as stealthily as he could on his jeans, took a deep breath, and turned to Derek. “Hey man, I’m Stiles, but being it’s just you and I, you probably already knew that. I am a huge fan of your work, the way you handle a ball is amazing. No, I didn’t mean that!” Derek outwardly glared at Stiles while biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the obviously flustered man. “I mean, you have an excellent bat…ass…fuck, I wasn’t checking out your ass, well I was, but it was to see if it made you handle your balls differently.  Shit that’s not what I meant…I’m just gonna shut up now!”

Derek has never seen a full-grown man turn so red in his entire life and frankly, it was rather nice. Since he promised Scott he would play nice and he didn’t want to laugh at the comedian, ironic as that sounded, he took a few deep breaths and stared upwards for a moment before introducing himself. “Hey, Derek Hale. Wolfman. Whatever. I can’t rightly comment on how you handle your balls.” He hadn’t meant to say that. He’d swear on Allison’s sandwiches that he hadn’t meant to say that. Something about this kid, not kid, same age as him and Scott, something about this boy, not boy, man, something about this MAN in front of him just made him unable to function. “Wow, I appear to have forgotten how to act. Let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Derek ‘Wolfman’ Hale, and you are Stiles ‘Funny Man’ Stilinski!” As Derek was reaching to shake Stiles’ hand, he heard something he was _not_ expecting.

“I cannot believe you!” A man shouted. Derek visibly cringed.

“So….you’re the Wolfman?” Stiles asked, trying to ignore the fight his best friends were having in the background, trying to stay focused on what he was supposed to be doing - getting to know Derek.

“And you’re the not so little Funny Man?” Derek smiled, just a little, knowing that banter was something he could do.

“So, you _haven’t_ been avoiding me?” Stiles could feel the edge of flirtation in his expression, could hear it in his words. Without even thinking about it, he brought his left hand up, tucked it under his chin while he tilted his head down, and sucked the edge of his bottom lip in between his teeth.

Derek couldn’t control his reaction, he stepped a little closer to Stiles, and he was surprised at the rasp in his voice when he responded with a smirk “So, you’ve _not_ been fucking your manager then?”

That is when Lydia stepped up, to yell about the lack of fucking, which of course just happened to perfectly coincide with the arrival of all the entertainment and sports press people.  Lydia realized what she’d done and turned towards the press, “Just helping Stiles go over some lines while we wait!” she chirped, a wide, plastic smile on her face. “Well, I think we’ll start in the stadium proper, have Derek and Stiles toss the ball for a bit, maybe swing a few bats. We should get some pictures of the two of them with team owner and manager, and then we’ll come up and do the Wii.  Jackson, if you could just do what it is you do, after you pick your camera back up, that would be great.” Lydia swung her arm in a vague, leftward direction.

At the mention of Jackson, Derek and Stiles both looked towards Lydia’s gesture. There, standing near Allison, was Jackson Whittemore. Derek’s cousin, Jackson. Lydia’s ex-boyfriend, Jackson. Apparently also photographer, Jackson. And it was awkward. It couldn’t be _any_ more awkward than if they all tried to make it that way. Allison and Scott were fighting, Lydia was working with her ex, Derek and Stiles were maybe flirting, maybe pissing each other off, probably both, and there were cameras and soon to be a handful of fans witnessing it.

“All right, then, to the field! Easy-peasy, right?” Stiles said. Derek just raised an eyebrow, and Scott dropped his face into his hands.

On the field, Stiles and Derek had no issues playing catch. Derek would pitch the ball gently; Stiles would catch it, cradling it in his glove, before tossing it back. A few people came over to help Stiles chose a bat and get him positioned correctly. Derek pitched, lobbing the balls as slowly and smoothly as he could, but Stiles missed the hit…seven times…in a row. Jackson snapped away the entire time from roughly a thousand different angles, and got some amazing pictures. Stiles was given back his glove, Derek chose a bat, and no matter how sloppy the throw was, Derek hit the ball, seven hits for seven pitches. “Hey man, good try, but it’s different out here in the field than on a soundstage.” Derek quipped. He and Stiles were taking their outdoor posed shots before going in to play the Wii.  Stiles acted happy, but he knew Jackson had gotten a few shots of him looking frustrated during his clicking spree. Hopefully, any pictures with Finstock turned out; Stiles did _not_ want to deal with that man again if he didn’t have to.

 

“Dude, make sure you have the strap around your wrist.” Stiles cautioned Derek. “Seriously, make sure you’ve got it snugged down, not too loose. Loose is bad, tight is good. Heheh…loose bad,” Stiles giggled to himself. Derek glared.

“I think I can manage a video game, Stilinski.” Derek snapped.

“I thought so too, but I almost took out Scott when I was practicing last week.”

“So you can practice a video game but not hitting an actual ball?” Derek retortedc.

“I figured, how different could it be? You wait and when the ball is in the zone, you swing and you hit. I didn’t actually have to hit the ball at all for the movie so I had no reason to practice _connecting_ ; I just practiced pitching form and batting form, never an actual hit.” Stiles explained, doing his best not to sound like he was talking to an idiot. “As you pointed out, it’s different on a sound stage. Well, the game is also different. I was trying to be nice, ass.”

“You seem to have a thing for my ass, don’t you?” Derek growled.

“What, no, what? It’s an ass, you’re an ass, you’re an ass with an ass, one of these two asses may be nice, and one may just be an ass, ass.” Stiles couldn’t pinpoint when things started to go downhill, but they were. Rapidly. “Listen, why don’t you go first, you know, get it out of the way, and then you can see your cousin. I can only assume he’s the reason that Scott and Allison are fighting, by the way….ass.”

Stiles set the game to single player, figuring it would make for better pictures. The cartoon Wii pitcher wound-up, pitched, and Derek missed! He missed by a mile! Again, a wind-up, pitch, swing and a miss.

“Look, the Wii, it isn’t my thing. If I’m going to play games, instead of surf or play ball or work out or do anything, _anything_ productive, it’s the Playstation or the Xbox. _I_ don’t use games as a substitute for having a life.” Derek was not in a good mood. How the hell can he not hit a ball in a video game? He reached down and loosened the wrist strap, it must be too tight. The third pitch, he tried ‘batting’ slower, the fourth faster, it was right before the fifth that he removed the strap from his wrist completely, and it was the sixth that saw the controller fly from his hand, directly into the screen of the very large, very expensive, clubhouse television.

“Did’ya manage to get a picture of that happening, Jackson? I think it would go great in your house.” Lydia sneered.

“Whoa, whoa, wow, hey, shit.” Stiles stuttered.

“Huh.”

“What the hell, dude, you manage to destroy a television in your teams’ clubhouse,even though I told you to make sure the strap was tight and since I am the expert on games here, as I apparently substitute them for having a life, so you should have _listened to me_ and the best you can manage is ‘huh’? Where is the cursing, the swearing, the invectives? You should be yelling and screaming and embarrassing yourself. Try it, just, take a deep breath and yell ‘Fuck me running!’ You’ll feel so much better… also, you are a giant ass.” Stiles realized after he stopped talking that the press was still there, that the handful of fans that had tickets had witnessed his outburst, and the cameras were rolling, so the fans that hadn’t could catch it on TV. He also realized that sometime during his rant, he’d kicked over the Wii, he hoped he didn’t break it. Perfect.

“So,” Scott said, after he pulled himself away from Allison, “If you will head down to the conference room then we can start the auction.  Derek and Stiles will be available for questions after they…clean up and get a bite to eat.  Remember, it will be a silent auction, and the lovely Allison McCall and her team have prepared some excellent Hors d’oeuvres for you all. Allison will be there to go over any food-related questions you may have, and Lydia Martin and myself will be along shortly.” Scott in manager mode was completely different from Scott the rest of the time. As soon as everyone except Derek, Stiles, Jackson, Lydia and Scott were gone, Scott turned to the rest. “Allison and I are fine; we just had a disagreement on her calling Jackson in after the teams standard stills guy got sick.  Lydia, thank you for letting us know that you are not fucking anyone, I am sure the press will have a field day with that little bit of information. Derek, you broke the TV. WHAT THE HELL MAN, you BROKE the television. Stiles, nice job with the Wii, if you broke it, the auction winner is getting yours. Jackson, good work. Do you have anything to add, Lydia?”

Lydia breathed deeply for a moment, willing herself not to blush. “I don’t think there is any amount of damage control that I can do at this point. I can’t stop them from airing the video they shot or publishing articles and pictures.  If Jackson is willing to work with me after I accused him of stalking me, I can make sure that everyone has access to the better, more… _flattering_ pictures he took. Sorry about that, by the way.” Lydia did look sorry. “Stiles, for the love of all that is holy, right and good in this world, stop saying ass, okay? I know I gave you your meds this morning, sweetheart; I know if you focus, really, really hard, you can control the words coming out of your mouth. So stop saying the word ass.”

“But-“

“No! No excuses, no rationales, no. Just, no more ass, Stiles, _no more ass_!”

“Damn, Lydia, if you take ass away from Stiles, what will he do with his free time?”

Lydia looked shocked, “Scott, you are an idiot. I am _so glad_ Allison didn’t hear that,” she said before she walked away.

“Wow, I’m going to follow Lydia, in a totally non-creepy way…it was nice to meet you I guess, Stiles, apparently, I was really wrong about you. I’ll see you for pictures and at the after party!” Jackson said while he walked backwards for about five steps, then turned and ran.

Derek and Stiles both stood and stared at Scott. “What?” Scott asked.

“Dude, you are NEVER to yell at Allison like that again for doing her job.” Derek snarled. “Yeah, she called Jackson, but did you ever think it may have been just because he was in town, and he could do the job? That maybe it had nothing to do with Lydia being here, and that Jackson actually freaked out a little when he saw Lydia? I can only assume that was why he was screeching earlier.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t think-“

“Scott, you are like a brother to me, but _I_ think more than you before I talk sometimes, and I have no fucking filter!” Stiles shouted. “You are so fucking lucky the press was gone before you said that. When I’m ready to be open with them, I will be, and you, my best friend, making a comment like that, it does not help.”

“Wait, you’re gay? So you _were_ flirting with me before?”

“God, Derek, you really are an ass.” Stiles said, softly. “If I’m gay, I was flirting, and if I’m straight, I’m what, making fun of the gay actor stereotype?”

“What? No, I just, we’ve never met, you come on all blushing and stumbling over your words, and… why am I explaining myself to you?”

“Really, guys, it’s not a big deal, Stiles likes men, Der-“

“You need to stop, Scott.” Derek growled out. Stiles looked hurt, Derek looked pissed, and Scott looked lost. “We have auction results to get, and your wife is expecting us. Maybe as we walk to the conference room, I can explain why you’re a fuckwit.” Derek roughly grabbed Scott’s arm and left, leaving Stiles alone to question, again, what the hell just happened.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all standard disclaimers apply.  
> Now, can we take a moment to appreciate katieepretzel?  
> If it weren't for her, not only would you be reading something with too many commas in odd places, and tenses that wander all over time, you would be reading a different chapter all together. One that sucked rabid donkeys no less.  
> She is awesome, and words cannot fully describe how awesome she is. I am working on an interpretive dance to explain it.

_Immediately After “The Event”, July 2010_

Stiles just stood there, attempting to figure out what had just happened. What he knew for a fact was that one of his best friends outed him in front of Derek Hale. He knew that when Derek had tried to talk to him afterwards his mouth had run away with him and that he may have accused Derek of seeing him as a gay stereotype. Stiles knew that he had to put in an appearance at this party Allison and Lydia planned, or he would be toast… but he could miss the rest of the evening at the stadium.  Lydia would make excuses for him not being there when the auction results were announced, Lydia would even schedule a time for him to get pictures with the winner or the manager and owner, if need be. After the party, he wouldn’t have to _see_ Derek anymore if he didn’t want to, so at least he wouldn’t be able to embarrass himself _in front of_ Derek after that..

Stiles pulled out his phone, staring at the screen for a moment before opening his messages and sending a text to Lydia explaining he was going for a drive to calm down. He’d be on time for the party; he just needed something to clear his head. Just as his message sent, a text from Scott came in, letting him know he’d decided to replace the Wii himself instead of making Stiles do it. Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if Derek was on the hook for the television.

standup_stiles: @howlinhale so, did they make you replace the TV, butterfingers?

He couldn’t help himself-it wasn’t possible for him to make their relationship worse, right?

Stiles decided to try and slip out of the stadium for some fresh air, maybe find some soda or coffee or an energy drink or jeez, just something, anything caffeinated before he went on his quest to find his Jeep in the mammoth parking structure. He was nervous about running into anyone.  Yeah, they’re all his friends, or friends of his friends, or…Derek, but he was still nervous. Lydia would _kill_ him if she knew he was hunting down caffeine. And not a quick death, like a dose of cyanide or a bullet to the head, more like an elaborate, torture-filled plan to kill him. She would do something like drug him, and leave him paralyzed in pool or something else sadistic like that. He could hear her in his mind “Stiles, sweetie, you need to stop trying to self-medicate. The Adderall will work if you take it right. Too much caffeine is not taking it right. Too much alcohol is not taking it right.”

 Still absorbed in his thoughts, he didn’t see the woman until she was immediately in front of him, waving her hands in his face to get his attention. “Hey, erm, not to sound weird but aren’t you Stiles Stilinski?” she asked.

“Who are you who is asking me if I am me, I mean…yeah.” Stiles dropped his head into his hands. God this night was not going well.

“Oh, I’m Erica Reyes, Derek asked if I could be here for the party, it was short notice, but I figured for him, why not, you know?”

Of course, why _wouldn’t_ Derek ask tall, blonde, admittedly beautiful women to show up at what is supposed to be a private party? “Yeah, yeah, it’s not at the stadium, though. It’s at…Allison’s house. Shit. I assume you wouldn’t tell me your name if you were a creepy stalker or anything, and no one knows about the party, so yeah, if you promise not to bite me or anything, and you don’t mind riding in an old ragtop Jeep, I’ll take you to The Ass.”

“Oh good, Scott’s still going to be there too, then?” Erica asked.

“What? Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Well,” Erica explained, “You said you were taking me to The Ass,-”Erica giggled slightly and made air quotes when she said ‘The Ass’. Are all of the women Derek knows so strikingly confident that they can make even his admittedly lame nickname seem clever and amusing? “And that’s Scott, right?”

“I don’t think I want to like you, but I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.” Stiles laughed and whined at the same time. “I meant I’ll take you to the party. Sorry, I tend to ramble, and I was looking for some caffeine, or something to jumpstart my brain.” Stiles pulled his keys out of his pocket, and then mumbled under his breath, “And The Ass is Derek, because of his ass and his general assishness.”

“No problem at all. I have Monsters in my purse, by the way.” Erica smiled.

“I thought I had a monster under my bed once, Lydia crawled under there, threatened to beat up anything if she found it, and that was that. She’s so badass that way.”

“Wow, you and she have really been friends for a long time then, huh?”

“Well, yeah, why?”

“If you have stories about her crawling under your bed to scare the monsters away like that, it shows that it’s been a long, close friendship.”

“Oh,” Stiles blushed, “Well, it was last week that she checked under my bed, but yeah, we’ve been friends since grade school. And seriously, as much as I would love a Monster right now, I’ll pass, Lyd would kill me if I made tonight any worse and trust me, Monster plus Stiles almost always equals worse.” He turned and motioned for her to follow. ”My car’s this way” Stiles started to walk around the complex, taking the long way to the parking structure. “So, how long have you known Derek?”

“Derek? All his life, so since I’ve been one and Jackson was a newborn.”

“Oh, wow. How do you know Jackson?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Ew, so you’re dating your cousin?” Erica grabbed Stiles arm and spun him to face her.

“What are you talking about?” She asked him, “I am not dating Derek, as one, he is my cousin, as _you_ pointed out. Two, I am married, well, actually in the process of getting a divorce. Three, Derek’s-“

The panic alarm on the jeep started blaring just then. Stiles awkwardly floundered with his key fob as he attempted to find the button to turn it off. “Oh, this is me, well, not me, but mine, my Jeep. Soooo not the Hollywood big shot ride, but then, I’m not a Hollywood big shot. Stand up and a handful of movies doesn’t make me a big shot, and I definitely don’t get big-shot pay. At least if I do, Lydia must be a spectacular liar in addition to a spectacular manager. I get paid alright, but nothing like what Derek gets. I don’t care what Derek gets, though, it doesn’t matter, I mean, athletes almost always make more, and Erica if you could shut me up somehow I would really appreciate it.”

“Oh Stiles, you are just like Lydia described you, and that was three years ago!”

Stiles thought back, “Lydia and Jackson weren’t dating then…how do you know Lydia?” Stiles started the jeep, backed out of his spot, and headed off towards the McCall place. “I didn’t know that you knew her. Why does everyone I know _know_ everyone I don’t know, but they all know each other? Are there these giant Stiles-free parties that I don’t know about, does everyone think I won’t fit in? Do they have those shiny helium balloons? Because I hate those. Is it like a giant, shiny balloon party? Is it because I’m gay?”

“If I give you a Monster, can you shut up, listen, and drive?” Erica asked. She sounded more scared than stern.

“Yeah, no, maybe. I can drive. That much I can do. Stiles can _always_ drive, and talk about himself in the third person, too!” He held his right hand out to her, wiggled his fingers, and opened and closed a fist in a gesture he hoped said ‘gimme’ and not ‘I want to milk your cows’.

“Are you offering to milk my cows?” Erica laughed as she opened a can and handed it to Stiles. “First, no one, to my knowledge, is holding Stiles-free parties. As for how I know Lydia, well, that’s her story to tell, I guess, if you don’t know it yet.” Erica paused and Stiles heard the telltale snick of her opening her own can. “So, you’re gay?”

“I can talk now, right? You asked me a question?” Stiles took a deep breath. “I am gay. Lydia, Scott, Allison, all of our parents, and I suppose the guys I’ve dated are all that really knew until today, when Scott told Derek. Sort of accidentally, but still. This happened right after I threw a massive hissy fit because Derek _wasn’t_ , and how does someone stay so calm after breaking a TV?”

“So, what, now that Derek knows you’re just going to announce it to everyone? Hi, my name is Gay Stiles Stilinski?”

“No….I told you that, you may not have known, I assumed you did, Ass, You, Me, yeah.  So, You’re getting a divorce?” Stiles attempted to change the subject.

“You have no skills whatsoever without a script, do you? You’re just an over eager puppy with no filter. God, you must just drive Derek nuts.”

Stiles was about to ask what she meant, when he realized they were at Scott and Allison’s.

“So, Here we are, and-“

“ERICA REYES YOU BITCH YOU NEVER CALLED ME!!!!”

Stiles looked around, and saw Lydia on the patio, standing on a chair, and grinning.

“Lydia, what was I supposed to do? Call you and say ‘oh hey, the guy you told me not to date, well, I married him, and he’s kind of a crazy asshole, so can you come and get me?’ I don’t think so!” Erica hollered.

“That is EXACTLY what you should have done. Instead, I have to hear from Jackson that you’re back, and Derek has to text you to get you here!” Lydia yelled back.

“Will everyone just get in here?!” Derek popped his head out the patio door to growl at Lydia on the porch, Stiles and Erica in the parking lot.

“If you’ll follow me again, m’lady, we can go face this together. I would suggest not telling Lydia you gave me an energy drink, she won’t be happy.” Stiles hooked his arm in Erica’s  and walked into the condo where Erica was immediately ripped from him by Allison and Lydia, only to be replaced with Scott.

“The girls said I have to apologize.” Scott muttered. “So, I was being stupid, and I saw you and Derek in an awkward situation, and I didn’t even think, I just went to disengage it, and I reacted like I would if it was just us, here or at your place, and it was stupid.” Scott took a deep, shuddering breath. “If I hadn’t been stopped, it would have kept getting worse. I’m sorry.”

“Scott. I have so much crap going on in my head right now, I can’t even explain. Why does Lydia know Erica so well? Why are you my best friend when you can’t pull your head out of your ass? Why can’t I stop asking questions? Did Allison make those peanut butter cookies with the caramel filled kisses on top?”

“The suck-my-kiss cookies? Yeah, she made some, as for the rest, I can’t tell you any of it. I just know that when I went to introduce Derek and Lydia they had already met, and that was a little before she and Jackson were dating. We cool?” Scott asked.

“Dude, I may not always like you, but you’re like a brother to me. We cool.” Stiles held out a fist, waited for Scott to bump it with his own. “Now, lead me to the chocolaty-caramelly-peanut butter goodness.”

“Yeah so, the punch sucks, Allison made it with nothing but freaking fruit and juice, no extra sugar or _anything,_ because the doctor told her that additives were bad for the baby or something.” Scott said as Stiles shoved a cookie into his mouth.

“WHAT?” Stiles choked out.

“No, not now but she wants to try, and I figure I’ll make a shit father but she says I’ll do fine.” Scott explained. “Now, since Lydia is off talking with Allison and Erica and I am not going to make the mistake of trying to break that up, here’s the deal. I replaced the Wii. We raised over fifty thousand for the charity. Jackson got all the pictures he needs, and he and Lydia are going to work together to make sure the TV breaking, your inability to hit a ball, and everything else is minimized as much as possible.”

“Cool, and Derek? I mean, does he hate me? Should I be worried that I made him show emotion? Should I be worried that I yelled at him?” Stiles rattled the questions off while loading the cookies into his hands. “Is he standing right behind me?”

Scott laughed, “No, he isn’t. He’s talking to Jackson, figuring out where Erica’s going to stay. I assume she filled  you in.  You really got to him. I haven’t seen him like this since-“

“Scott! I need you. Over here. Now.” Derek snapped. Scott looked to the corner where Derek was sitting with Jackson, an annoyed expression on his face.

“Look, I’ve gotta go to talk to him. Just relax, have fun, just chill.” Scott said, “And try not to break anything,” he added cheekily, before he gave Stiles a hug and walked away.

Stiles leaned against the wall. He looked around, saw everyone in their groups talking, and decided that he just wanted to go home and sleep. Erika and Lydia were catching up, and indoctrinating Allison into whatever brand of craziness they had. Scott was dealing with Derek and Jackson. Stiles realized that all he was doing was eating cookies, avoiding punch, and getting ready to say or do something stupid because of the Monster he downed on the way over. Really, it was just better if he left now. He sent a quick text to Allison, Scott and Lydia, and quietly let himself out.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to add to the Jeff Davis owns Teen Wolf thing, Jimmy Eat World own themselves and Praise Chorus, I don't own The Hangover, and if there is an obvious pop culture reference, I am more than like not the owner of the source of said reference.  
> As always, I must sing the highest praises of katieepretzel, because she is awesome, and she loves me even though I send her ridiculous chapters with too much unneeded punctuation, and not enough contractions. I am a better writer because of her.  
> If there are ever any errors in my writing, it falls on me, not her.
> 
> So, some more new characters.  
> enjoy

_October 2010_

“Stiles I-know-that-isn’t-really-your-first-name-but-no-one-will-tell-me-what-it-really-is-and-you-have-no-middle-name-that-I-know-of Stilinski, you _WILL_ come to dinner, and you _WILL_ help me make it, in _my kitchen,_ none of this making something at your place and bringing it here crap, and you _WILL_ see Derek while you’re here and you’ll be civil and you’ll like it, dammit! It’s an important dinner, and I just want everyone here!” Allison shouted over the phone.

“Christ woman. I’ll be there! I’ve just been busy, all right?” Stiles said, as he set the phone to speaker and set it on his snare drum.

“Busy for _three entire months_? No. Lydia was able to get you an excuse for 6 weeks, and I get that you had to travel for all those different premiers, but you missed every single meal I hosted when you were home. It doesn’t take that long to study a script or write new material for your stand up.” Allison sighed. “I thought you were going to forgive Scott? Yeah, he was an ass, but you know he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Allison,” Stiles whined, “I forgave Scott. I really have been busy. I am not avoiding anyone.” Stiles had made a point of forcing Lydia to schedule as many things as possible into as short a time as possible. He wasn’t avoiding anyone; he was avoiding _everyone._ He couldn’t shake the feeling that people weren’t being totally honest with him. When he’d asked Lydia how she knew Derek, she’d not-so-nicely instructed him to ask Derek if he wanted to know so badly. Scott and Allison were in full on family planning mode, and after hearing about ovulation schedules over one dinner, he bowed out of the rest. (Seriously, one conversation about cervical mucus and internal temperature changes throughout the day was enough for one lifetime.) Erica’s been hanging around more, which means more Jackson, and that makes things odd with Lydia even though she insists it doesn’t.

“You listen to me, and you listen well, you will be _here_ , you will be _pleasant_ , and you will be the charming Stiles I know and love!  You’ll even arrive early if you leave now, so leave now.” Allison hung up on him.

Stiles made sure his phone disconnected before setting it in his shirt pocket, and then he began pounding out the rhythm to _A Praise Chorus_. His dad bought him a drum set for his fifteenth birthday, figuring that it was the safest, least likely to be awkward thing to get his already awkward, hyperactive son. It changed Stiles’ life- the drums gave him an outlet for when things got to be too much, for when he was trying and almost failing not to self-medicate, for when he just couldn’t find words, and for when he needed to make decisions. He knew he was going to the dinner, he missed his friends… and if he got the ‘play nice’ speech, then surely Derek did as well.

He and Derek had exploded after the interviews started. Not that there was a Him and Derek or anything. Not like a Ross and Rachel or even a Joey and Phoebe, no no, he and Derek were more like He, and Derek. That’s a _very_ important comma. Interviewers would ask Derek for ‘his side’ of the story; like it somehow had sides and wasn’t just a plain old boring story.  What it always boiled down to was that Derek was good at sports, Stiles was good at video games, and from there everything went to hell. Derek would bring up frustration at the athletic side of the competition; Stiles would mention that he never got to play Wii. When asked, Stiles would admit that he told Derek to tighten down the wrist strap; Derek would remember to point out that Stiles destroyed the Wii console. _Someone_ leaked to the media that Stiles didn’t pay to replace the console he kicked. _Someone_ leaked to the media that Derek replaced the TV with a larger, better quality, set.

A pounding on his door broke Stiles out of his reverie. He realized with a start and a slight shake of his head that he was drumming louder and louder while he thought about the past three months. Shit. That meant a neighbor heard him and was here to bitch. “Look, I know I was being too loud, sorry, I’ll keep it down, okay?” Stiles said while he opened the door.

“I’m on my feet, I’m on the floor, I’m good to go!” Stiles looked up then, as whoever was in his doorway knew the lyrics to the song he was drumming. They _knew_ from the drumming, what song it was, and then tossed out a lyric. He was certain this was his new best friend…or boyfriend, holy shit. The man was only a little taller than Stiles, but he had legs that went on forever, was lean, had an amazing jaw line, and mussed, dirty-blonde hair.  A throat clearing brought Stiles’ attention to the man standing behind the presumed Greek god.  The throat-clearer was a stockier black man, with a shaved head, expressive eyes, and a smile that was turning Stiles into a puddle of goo.

“Hi, I’m Boyd, this is Isaac. We heard you across the street-“

“Shit I am so sorry, it’s just I drum when I need to think, or when I want to drum, or when I have too much in my head, and most of the neighbors are used to it and as long as I keep it to ‘normal hours’ they are fine with it, or you know, fine enough not to complain, but the two of you are new and hot and I am Stiles by the way.” Stiles slapped his palm over his mouth when he realized not only that he cut Boyd off, but everything that he had said. Isaac had sat down on the step and was laughing; Boyd was smiling, still holding out his hand. Stiles shook Boyd’s hand, waved at Isaac and took a deep breath. “So, yeah, Hi, I am Stiles, and I live here, alone, well, Lydia comes over a lot sometimes, and when my dad or Scott’s mom or Lydia’s mom visits, they stay here, but I mostly live alone. No pets, I’m not around enough for one, except for when I am.”

“You are just like Lydia described you.” Isaac said, from his perch on the steps.

“What the FUCK! How does _everyone_ know Lydia?” Stiles asked.

“Well, if we can come in, we can explain. Also, can we catch a ride to Scott and Allison’s tonight?” Boyd let himself in without waiting for an answer and Isaac shrugged at Stiles, before getting up and following Boyd.

“You really are having parties without me, aren’t you? I was sort of joking when I asked before but this is getting ridiculous. Everyone really does know everyone else and you’re all just waiting for the perfect moment to spring yourselves on me. It’s like you have this wolf pack like in The Hangover that I am just finding out about and I don’t belong in and-“

“I’m Erica’s divorce attorney,” Boyd interrupted. “You just seemed like you would be going on like that for a long time if I didn’t stop you. I’m Erica’s attorney; Erica is staying with Lydia while this gets worked out, that’s how we met. Isaac is my brother.”

“Oh, now I know you’re shitting me.”

“I was adopted.” Isaac was so casual in his reply that Stiles actually felt bad.

“Oh, so hey yeah, come in, I’ll totally drive you to Scott and Allison’s tonight. I assume Lydia and Erica invited you, then?”

“Well, Lydia and Erica invited me, and I asked if Isaac could come so he can meet people in the area. He’s a writer, and tends to get lost in his own world if we don’t drag him out. Isn’t that right?”

Isaac glared at his brother. “What Boyd is leaving out is that I know Derek, Jackson, Erica and Lydia from way back in the day. I used to work at the coffee shop that they all hung out at in college. You were always doing other stuff, I guess.”

What Isaac said was true - he was always doing other stuff. Stiles did the stand-up circuit, tried to make a name for himself at every small club that would have him, at every open mic night, at college theaters doing fifteen minute warm-ups for the actual opening acts to musicians and more famous comedians. Over four years he took as many classes on-line as he could and was really only home long enough to get some food, hug his dad, and handle any school work that needed to be done in person. He was really lucky to find a school that worked for him. Oddly enough, it was Lydia who did college the normal way at USC with everyone else. She hung out with people, had fun, but she also worked her all off to take care of Stiles. She made phone calls and sent emails to line up his next gig, get him paid, get him a cheap motel or crash space that had internet and she sent him replacement batteries and cords for his beat up laptop. She talked to his dad and assured him that his only son, his only surviving family, was alright and yes, still on track to graduate on time.

“Well, if everyone knows Lydia from the coffee shop, why didn’t Scott know she knew all of you?” He was still suspicious, but Stiles was so happy to finally be getting some answers.

“Why didn’t YOU know she knew all of us? “Isaac smirked.

“But it doesn’t matter anyways because it’s time to go,” Boyd interjected diplomatically.

Goddammit Isaac was still smirking. “Mmm…I was told I wasn’t truly alive until I’ve had a ride with you.”

“Are you…did you….my Jeep, right….or…..”

“I call shot gun!” Boyd hollered over his stuttering. Stiles locked up, and led them to his Jeep. As soon as everyone was buckled up, he pulled out, drumming on the steering wheel in time to the music. Boyd would flip his visor down every now and then to use the mirror to look at Isaac in the back seat. Neither one of them said anything though. They just watched Stiles drive and drum and occasionally sing, but never talk. They both realized that this was out of the ordinary from what their friends told them and what they witnessed themselves in the last half hour.

As soon as they arrived at the McCall’s Stiles was out of the vehicle and rushing into the house. “Allison is making me cook in her kitchen,” he called back apologetically, but that was all the explanation needed. The other two men both sported grimaces Stiles assumed meant good luck, but that they wouldn’t trade places with him for anything. Stiles was aware of Erica rushing past him to hug Boyd in a less than professional manner. Stiles was _very_ aware of Derek walking past him to hug _Isaac_ in a more than friendly manner. Scott just nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen, and actually did mouth ‘good luck’. Then, suddenly Allison was there, dragging him into the kitchen by his freakin’ ear!

“That’s my freakin’ ear!” Stiles whined.

“I know; now if you get in the kitchen, I’ll let it go.”

“If you weren’t being a psycho, you’d realize I was heading that way already! Jesus woman, what has your hormones all rankled…”Stiles stopped short. “Oh my god, you’re pregnant aren’t you?!?!”

“Stiles shut up!” Allison let go of his ear and hurried him the rest of the way into the kitchen, looking to make sure no one heard. “Yes, yes I am, and no one, not even Scott knows yet! I just found out yesterday myself.” Allison looked terrified, and thrilled, and a little lost. “We’ve been so busy getting everything set up, so when the Doctor called with the results last night I didn’t say anything. He said he wasn’t ready, what if I forced him into this?”

“Okay sweetie, just come here, and let me hug on you. Scott is ready for this, I know that much. Now tell me what you need me to do, alright?” Stiles wrapped his arms around her, smoothed his hands over her hair, and rocked them side to side. “I remember Melissa talking about the pregnant women on her floor at the hospital complaining about what they couldn’t eat, and I figure you’re a nutritionist, so you should know this too, but it’s not like Derek and the team are ever gonna get pregnant, men being pregnant would just be weird. Really soft cheeses are out, and there’s a limit on types and amounts of fish, and what else?”

Allison started to laugh. “Stiles, I need you to make your pancakes, and I’ll make apple cinnamon compote to go on them, and would you make the cocoa? The cocoa with the mint in it? It’ll settle my tummy. I’m about six weeks in and starting to get morning sickness. The doctor said it was normal, but normal doesn’t mean pleasant.”

Stiles nodded, again unsure of what to say or do. The Allison standing before him wasn’t the super confident, ‘willing to use food and her magic kitchen to get her way’ woman he was used to.

“Stiles, if you don’t get started on your pancakes, we can’t eat dinner, and then I can’t tell you about the ice cream I made for dessert.”

Ah, there she was. While he grabbed the mixing bowls and measuring cups, he started to relax. He started to think about his friends he’d hardly seen in the last three months, why he’d be upset if they all know each other outside of him, why Derek hugging _anyone_ would ping on his radar. He completely forgot for a moment whose kitchen he was standing in.

“So, are you pulling your head out of your ass?” Allison asked casually while she sliced apples.

“What, woman, I swear, your being with child will not stop me from being pissy with you.”

“Are you realizing that we love you, even when you go off the deep end a little? It’s hard when the dynamics change, we get that.”

“All right, Al, stop playing psychologist and let’s get dinner made. If you’re gonna try and make me like these changes, you’re gonna need to tell me what you know about the God who arrived with me.” Stiles started pouring batter onto the griddle and desperately tried not to giggle while thinking about Isaac’s hair. The goal was to look like he was making conversation, not fishing for information. Certainly not fantasizing about what Isaac would sound like with a British accent. God, he’d sound _good_ with an accent.

“Isaac or Boyd?”

“British accent, what?! Well, I know Boyd’s a lawyer, he seems way to close to his client form the hug I witnessed, he’s Isaac’s brother. All I know about Isaac is that he slings coffee, is a writer, knew Jackson and Erica and Derek and Lydia from college, is a hottie, knows music based on the drum line, quotes Jimmy Eat World lyrics effortlessly, so who do you think I mean?” Stiles stopped the pancake-making long enough to roll his eyes at Allison.

“What I know is what you know, plus that he went out with Lydia a few times and he and Derek used to have a thing.”

“He dated Lydia? Wait, what do you mean, ‘had a thing’? What kind of Thing?”

Allison just smiled impishly and continued slicing apples.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers and info still apllies. Katieepretzel is still made of win, as far as betas go.  
> I want to make some things clear right now. Derek and Stiles, they are an eventual. Anyone who has read this from the very beginning knows that they are going to hook up. It is a slow simmer to get there. They are going to see other people before they hook up. I, personally, wouldn't be happy wiht a minimum of 18 months celibacy, and I am not doing that to them. Will them being with other people take up huge chunks of the story, no, but is it important to me, and to the story for it to happen, yes, yes it is.  
> I am under no delusions that everyone will like where I take these characters in every chapter, and I am under no delusions that everyone is going to be sunshine and rainbows about me having them be with other people for any amount of time, just....trust me to trust my instincts on this, ok?  
> Thank you. I love you all, and I appreciate you all, so much. Getting reviews, getting kudos, seeing people bookmark - it's the validation that keeps me going. smooches.

_Exact same night in October 2010_

A thing could be anything really. Someone threatening you for hurting their sister is a thing. Someone meeting for lunch with you regularly to discuss your riveting life story is a thing. Someone mapping out your mouth with their tongue is also a thing. Shit, shit NO…that last one was not a thing, most definitely NOT a thing. Totally not a thing that he wanted Isaac to do to him. Or Derek to do to him. Most decidedly not a thing that he would want to witness between Derek and Isaac…Dammit, focus Stiles!

 He needs to try again. “Al, you crazy, hormonal kitchen goddess, I need to verify that you said that Isaac dated Lydia a few times.” Stiles waited for Allison to nod. “Okay, now I need you to explain, in small, easy-for-Stiles-to-understand words, what ‘a thing’ is.”

“It is what it is. You could always ask Derek. I’m sure if you actually talked to him he would tell you.”

“Anytime I talk to him, things just get worse.” Stiles grumbled while flipping pancakes.

“I said _talk,_ not ramble incessantly, Stiles.” She reached up to grab the cinnamon from the cupboard above her. “And no, anytime you talk to the _media_ it just gets worse. If you actually talked to _Derek_ , the person, not Wolfman Hale the athlete in front of the camera, you’d like him.”

“Your compote’s about done, Al.” Stiles flipped the last pancake and set it on top of the others. “Did you pull out the butter for me to whip? You know that whipped butter is the best butter on pancakes, and you know you want me to whip it for you, no one whips it like I do.” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows at Allison, hoping she’d allow him to change the subject. Allison was cracking up, doubled over laughing, so he considered his mission a success.

“So you give amazing rides _and_ you whip things like a master? Splendid.”

Stiles turned to see Isaac standing in the entryway, breathtaking smile in place of the smirk Isaac was sporting earlier.

“Anything I can lend a….hand…with?” Isaac raised an eyebrow, his gaze entirely focused on Stiles.

 

“Allison was just gonna set the table, right Allison? You were gonna do that while I whipped the butter and put the compote in a bowl… and did things in the kitchen without you being in it, right, _right?”_ Stiles all but pushed Allison out of the kitchen.

 “So yeah, uhmmm…can you reach up in that cabinet and get me a bowl to whip the butter in?” Stiles was suddenly aware that he was alone with Isaac, on purpose.

“Are you asking me, who’s what, two inches taller than you, to grab something from the cabinet right over your head?” Isaac took a step closer, licked his lips. His voice deepened, almost a low growl, “I mean, if you are, I will, but if you just wanted me closer, I’m fine with that, too.”

Stiles nervously chuckled. “Wow, uhm…You’re doing…this…and I don’t know how to do…uh, this. The last person I got all flirty with, it got awkward, and then the media got involved, and we’ve been not too great to each other, and you apparently had a thing with him after you dated Lydia, so I have no clue of you’re into guys or not, or if _he’s_ into guys or not, and I think I broke my gaydar, and how can you be gay with a broken gaydar, and what constitutes a thing, and I thought you were hot before I knew you had a thing with Lydia so this isn’t like when I first came out and I was crushing on Lydia’s boyfriend or anything and I-“ He was cut off by lips slanting over his own. During his rant he missed Isaac crossing the kitchen to stand in front of him, pressing him against the counter, arms on either side of his body. Just as he was starting to lean forward into the kiss, Isaac backed off.

“It seemed like the best way to shut you up, sorry.”

“No, uh, don’t apologize for that. Never apologize for that. Uhm,” Stiles blushed and chewed on his lower lip,”…I do need to get this food out on the table, and I do actually need someone just a little taller than me to get the bowl down because Al keeps it on the very top shelf for some reason. So, “ he stuck the edge of his thumb in his mouth to lick some pancake batter off the edge (he swears, that’s the only reason he would put his thumb in his mouth in front of Isaac, absolutely no other reason _at all_ ),”Yeah, if you could just go ahead and grab that for me, I can get this butter whipped, and we can eat. My pancakes are Heaven, fluffy little melt on your tongue pieces of Heaven.” Isaac was smiling at Stiles again, this half smile that had Stiles wondering if there were more words to describe it than a smirk, or a grin, a salacious upturn of the corner of his lips…

“STILES! What the hell are you doing in there?” Scott yelled from the dining room. “I am so fucking hungry dude, you have no idea and the wife said to just leave you alone. Is Isaac in there with you? OUCH!”

Stiles dropped his head, sighed, and started plating the pancakes. “Once Scott starts getting smacked for being stupid, it’s only a few minutes until someone comes to see what is taking me so long. For some reason, I’m always the one holding up meals.” He turned to hand the plate to Isaac. “Take this out? Then come back for the compote, and I’ll be about done whipping the butter by then. Thanks babe.” He froze. He just called Isaac babe. The man he met just this evening, the man who _did_ kiss him to shut him up …the man who just smiled that full, breathtaking smile before kissing him on the nose, and taking the pancakes out to the dining room. He was so absorbed in thought, and whipping butter, that he didn’t even notice when Al ran into the kitchen to grab the compote; he just finished his task and floated out into the dining room.

All conversation stopped when Stiles entered the room, a sudden, very awkward silence. It broke him from his thoughts. “What, none of you have seen whipped butter? I call foul! I make it every time we have pancakes.” He looked around the table. Erica and Boyd were sitting next to each other at the far end of the table, an open folder between their plates. Allison was next to Lydia, grasping her friend’s hand, with Scott next to her, being oblivious. Jackson and Derek were next to each other, Jackson apparently trying to tell Derek something using just his eyebrows to communicate. The only open chair was next to Isaac, which was odd because Stiles was really pretty certain that the big rectangle normally had twelve chairs around it, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Eat up. Allison wanted us all here for a reason, maybe if we eat, she’ll tell us, yeah? What has everyone all quiet anyways?”

“You’re smiling.” Erica noted. “None of us have really seen you lately, and we didn’t know what to expect.”

“Why wouldn’t I be happy, I signed for a new movie a while ago and we start filming in a week and my not at all about baseball movie premiered to good reviews. It’s not like I have any reason to be unhappy, right?” He laughed nervously, “I mean, it’s not like it’s been awkward or anything, not like everyone seems to know everyone else and I’m being left out or that people know things they aren’t telling me because I apparently need to ask the source but that would mean the source has to be willing to talk to me instead of being an ass…oh look, cranberry juice!”

“Stiles, sweetie, I love you but you can be just as big an ass as the rest of them.” Allison sighed. “Since this dinner has hit its awkward peak early, let’s just cut to the chase.” Allison smiled and took Scott’s hand in hers. “I’m pregnant. Found out yesterday, due in early May.”

“I AM THE BEST MAN EVER!” Scott shouted, before scooping Allison into a large hug. Stiles mouthed ‘told you so’ to her when she looked his way. Everyone was smiling, offering congratulations and being generally happy. Dinner proceeded without a hitch from there, everyone talking over each other, everyone laughing. No one but Stiles noticed that Derek never spoke to him, only ever looked his way to glare at the lack of space between him and Isaac. Eventually, the meal ran its course. Allison brought out her homemade Neapolitan ice cream, and reminded Stiles that he was supposed to make her hot chocolate.

“Who else needs cocoa?” Stiles laughed, as every person except one shot a hand up. “Really, Derek? None for you?”

“I have to head out-I have plans later tonight. Isaac, you still need a ride home?”

At this point, everyone stopped their conversations to watch the interaction between the three men.

“I was thinking I’d take another ride with Stiles, if he’s up for it.” Isaac looked at him with a half-smile, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, sure, totally, I have room for you and Boyd in the Jeep, no problem, it worked on the way here.” Stiles pointedly looked away from Isaac, but that had him looking at Derek so he just looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you in the kitchen earlier? Boyd’s going to have Erica drop him off later. Whatever could have distracted me from telling you?” Isaac raised his eyebrow further. God, those things should be illegal.

“That’s where you went after we talked? You sized up your options pretty quick.” Derek sneered.

“Nothing to size up, Derek; you made yourself perfectly clear three years ago and I’ve been your friend and respected it.”

“Ha” Derek huffed. “Does he know you wrote his movie?”

“He’d already signed, so this has nothing to do with that.” He turned from Derek to Stiles. “Stiles, _by the way_ ,that new movie you’re in, that part that you accepted way before we met, I wrote it, so there is no way my kissing you influenced your career, right?”

“Wait; is this about the ‘Thing’?” Stiles blurted. “So the thing is a THING like I thought, like, you dated Lydia, and then you dated Derek! Holy shit, and now you’re hitting on me. How am I even in your league, Derek and Lydia are hot, and I’m just me and you could have them and you are kissing on me, ROCK ON!” Stiles turned on his heel and pumped his fist in the air.

“Well, since you seem to have it all figured out, Stiles- you can take him home.” Derek growled. “Allison, congrats on the baby. Call if you need anything. Scott, don’t be stupid.”  Stiles was getting ready to say something, anything, when Derek stormed out the door.

“Shit.”

“That summed it up nicely.” Isaac nodded towards Stiles. “Sooo…you want some help making the cocoa?” He grabbed Stiles and dragged him into the kitchen, leaving everyone else in the dining room. Once they were safely ensconced in the Kitchen of Secrets, Isaac turned to face him and grabbed both his hands. “Look, I dated Lyd, it didn’t work out, she’s prettier than I am, and fierce, and there was no way it would be serious. Derek and I…there’s nothing to worry about there anymore, hasn’t been for years. I was just his fall back for a while, it wasn’t fair to anyone.” Isaac let go of one of Stiles hands, gently placed his hand under Stiles’ chin and tipped his head up. “As for you not being in my league? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Stiles nodded, as much as he could with Isaac’s fingers on his face. He grabbed Isaac’s belt loops, used them to pull himself a little closer, and tipped his face up just enough to brush his lips against the other man’s. When Isaac pressed in, Stiles licked into his mouth and used his tongue to pull Isaac’s lower lip into his mouth, between his teeth, before pressing down just a little then backing off.

“Alright, good, _god_ this is good, cocoa, not you, you taste like butter and apple and pancake and why didn’t you have any ice cream? No, that’s not important now, now I need to make cocoa for everyone, and then we are _going_ because we need to talk and I keep kissing you in this kitchen or you keep kissing me but maybe if we weren’t in Allison’s goddamn lair I could stop kissing you long enough to talk to you to make sure that I really do want to be kissing you. Did you get any of that?” Stiles looked at Isaac, as if Isaac’s response would make all the difference in the world.

“You make cocoa, I’ll let them know that we’re heading out after, and I’ll also apologize for any awkwardness, as it’s my fault.”

“What, no, not your fault, Derek was just being his normal fantastic-ass self. His normal fantastic asshole self, not fantastic ass, I shouldn’t be talking about Derek’s ass with you.”

“You are adorable; you know that, don’t you?” Isaac asked before he left the kitchen. “You’re also totally right, his ass is fantastic,” he called over his shoulder.

Stiles sputtered a little at the comment, but eventually pot his mind out of the gutter long enough to get the cocoa made and brought out to the dining room with no issues. Lydia had moved next to Jackson, Erica and Boyd were back in their little world, and Scott was sitting with his hand on Allison’s stomach, a look of awe and pride on his face.

“So, here’s the cocoa. Isaac and I are going to head out now… Scott, you are, indeed, the best man ever, and you will be a great dad. Al, I love you, and I promise to be around more. Lyd, call me when you get home, we obviously have things to talk about.” He reached down, wrapped his fingers in Isaac’s, and pulled him out the door. “C’mon you, let’s get going.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, Jeff Davis owns all, and katieepretzel, I cannot even tell you how amazing she is. I got this to her late, and even though she is super busy she got it back to me. Any and all errors in this chapter are mine and mine alone, and anything good in this chapter is more than likely because of her. This one was hard for me to write, it demanded to be told, but then fought leaving my brain and getting on the page so hard.

_October 2010, after the dinner_

Derek was not pleased.

Derek was actually _pretty_ certain that ‘not pleased’ was a glaring understatement.

He’d spent the drive back to his place in a huff, face set in a harsh scowl. Even the hum and roar of his precious Camaro couldn’t lift his angry fog. He’d lost his temper at Scott and Allison’s tonight and he felt awful for it, but he didn’t think there was  any way at all to make things right.

After throwing the car into park and stomping into the house, Derek hurled his keys somewhere in the general direction of the kitchen before heading straight upstairs. He walked into his bedroom, grabbed a baseball and laid back in bed, tossing the ball from hand to hand while he thought about the evening.

First, it was the phone calls.

There was his phone call with Erica, wherein he reminded her that Boyd was still her lawyer, so ethically, they couldn’t have a relationship until her divorce from Matt was finalized, unless she got a new attorney.  Erica basically told him to go fuck himself, many times over, and oh yeah, by the way, Isaac was going to be invited to dinner, too.

Then there was the call from Allison, who was an oddly emotional wreck. She yelled at him about making sure he was there tonight, and that if he didn’t play nice with the other guests, she would dig out her old archery gear and ‘put him down like a rabid dog’.

The phone call from Scott, where they both tried to figure out what Scott had done wrong this time, because Allison was alternating between laughing and crying while making ice cream. When Derek told Scott to ask her what was wrong, Scott commented that it was good Derek didn’t date women, as he definitely would have been murdered in cold blood by now.

Jackson calling for fashion advice threw him for a loop. Derek was gay, so of course Derek would know what to wear to impress the ex-girlfriend who wasn’t dating her client after all, right?

Once the inane barrage of phone calls was over, he had a few hours to think about what had. Or more specifically, what he didn’t have.

Derek didn’t have a serious relationship. He could coach Erica through her divorce, and lead Jackson through his dance with Lydia. He was more than willing to lend an ear to Scott or Allison, but he had no personal experience to draw from.  Derek had a string of discreet one night stands with men he knew would remain quiet about having been with an athlete. Derek had a handful of friends with benefits who were more than understanding that he wasn’t looking for anything more. Then, he had Isaac. Well, he _had_ had Isaac.

They’d met at the coffee shop.  Derek was in line behind this red-head who wouldn’t stop talking on her cell. The red-head gets up to the counter, pulls the Barista over, plants one hell of a kiss on him, _all while on her phone_ , and then says “Isaac, it’s been fun, but I’m just too pretty for you.” Derek braced himself to witness some huge emotional fallout, but the Barista had just looked at the redhead, smiled, and said “Yeah, Lydia, yeah you are. So…extra-large chai latte?” This redhead - Lydia nods, says “Thanks, Sweetie.” And then everything continued like normal.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

Derek realized he was standing; slack jawed, at the counter.

“Sorry, I just…Did your girlfriend just dump you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool though, I was gonna do it after shift, anyway.” Isaac laughed. “She’s a great girl, really, once you have your order, you should go sit with her.”

Derek scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion. “Are you…did…You’re trying to hook me up with your just-dumped-you ex?”

“Well, she’s not _really_ your type, now is she? I just figured you could talk with her for an hour or so ‘til I’m clocked out, then we can, dunno, get dinner?”

Holy shit.

“Uhm…okay?” Derek had never felt so off his game. He’s never had anyone behave like this with him, ever. Not even on campus, after a game.

“Cool, what do you want while you wait?”

“Oh, yeah, just a big cappuccino, extra shot of espresso in it, and can you make them long draws, I like when it’s a little bitter.” Ordering Derek could do. He knew how he liked his coffee, chatted up baristas in the past to make sure he understood how to order to ensure he got what he wanted.

“Go sit, and I’ll have someone bring the drinks to you guys in a moment.” Isaac nodded his head towards Lydia’s table, with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

Eager to walk away and regain his mental footing, Derek walked to the table where Lydia was sitting. “Hey, is this seat taken?”

“One moment Sheriff,” Lydia said into her phone, before turning to look at Derek, “Listen here Mr. Big and Broody, the only reason I am letting you sit here is because Isaac sent you over, and he is eerily good at reading people. I am on the phone with the father of a friend, and you will let me finish this call before you try and talk to me again. If you understand, just nod that big old head of yours.”

Derek nodded, a little frightened by the fiery woman.  He sat in a chair and fiddled with the napkins on the table, trying not to listen in on her conversation, while waiting on Isaac to send their drinks over. Finally, Isaac himself walked two cups over, stopping long enough to remove the pile of shredded napkin from in front of Derek.

“No, no, he’s fine. Sheriff…sir… **Papa** …I _swear_ he is fine.” From what Derek could reluctantly hear, Lydia cared deeply about the person she was talking to, as well as the person she was talking about. “I rationed his Adderall before he left; I have a list of pharmacies that accept your insurance in my files… You know, you can call him yourself. Yeah, I made sure that when he was close to home he didn’t have a hotel booked so he woul stay with you. All right sir….yes…I know…love you too.” Lydia took a deep breath after setting down her phone. “I swear, that man and his son will be the death of me. Now, who are you?”

“Derek, Derek Hale, and you are Lydia, the girl who just dumped Isaac, and apparently keeps track of someone’s son for them?” Derek slid Lydia’s cup to be in front of her, and then took a drink from his own.

“Lydia Martin, nice to meet you. So, you’re who Isaac is planning on rebounding with…not bad!”

“Excuse me?” Derek choked on a mouthful of cappuccino. (Made perfectly, too.)

“Isaac can read people, and my best friend is on the down low. Well, he thinks he’s on the down low at least.  Between the two of us, we had you pegged.  If I’m wrong, I’m sorry, but you really just scream his type.”

“Really.” Derek paused to take another sip of his perfect cappuccino. Good lord, he’d have to come here from now on anyway, attractive baristas or not. “What is his type, other than redheads who think they are prettier than he is?”

“Men who are a challenge. You, well, you’re challenging, aren’t you?”

Derek and Lydia bantered for a while, before Isaac came and joined them. Of course, Isaac’s version of joining them was to sit on Lydia’s lap  and place his hand on Derek’s thigh under the table.

Derek had to smile as he thought of that day. Lydia really hadn’t changed at all, and had bothered to think about it at all over the years, he would have realized that Stiles was the friend she’d been talking about. Isaac, well, they went on a few dates, and they had a lot, _a lot_ , of sex, and then Isaac told Derek that he loved him.

“Isaac, I….can’t…”

“You can’t what? I’m not asking for you to say it back, Derek, I’m just telling you that I love you.” Isaac was like a cuddly puppy just then, hugging on Derek as if he was home and warmth and goodness all rolled into one.

 

“I can’t be the guy you deserve. I just…my career, and Scott’s career. It’s image just as much as skill and I can’t. I’m sorry.” Derek tried not to look at Isaac; sure he’d see heartbroken eyes looking back at him.

“Der…look at me.” Derek slowly, apprehensively let himself make eye contact with Isaac. “It’s fine, I’ll love you no matter what. I think, even if you didn’t have the career you just wouldn’t be ready, your loss, your family, it’s still too fresh. I have Boyd, our parents, I have had time to figure out all of it, and you…honestly, you never thought about us having a future, or none of what you just said…” Isaac was quiet, “now hug me back, and we’ll pretend this didn’t happen. I still love Lydia, you know, and I never even told her. I just really like loving people, especially people who deserve to be loved.”

Derek smiled and hugged Isaac. After that, they were friendly, and every now and then they would hook up but it was never quite the same.  Eventually, they’d decided to try being just friends. Every now and then though, when there was someone Derek couldn’t shake, Isaac would be his first call.

That brought Derek to this evening, and to seeing Isaac at the party. First, Isaac and Boyd had shown up with Stiles, and there was absolutely nothing at all disconcerting about the man he used to really, really enjoy screwing into the mattress arriving with the man he really, _really_ wants to be screwing into the mattress, or in the Camaro, or _on_ the Camaro, oh, or on the kitchen floor… but who he also really doesn’t like all that much, at the same time.  Derek cannot explain what exactly Stiles does or says that rubs him the wrong way, but the line between endearing and annoying is so fine and Stiles straddles that line so closely, and no Derek, don’t think about Stiles straddling anything…

Derek walked up and embraced Isaac. “It’s good to see you.” He placed a soft, openmouthed kiss to the juncture of Isaac’s neck and shoulder, “I missed you.”

Isaac returned the hug, took Derek’s hand and led him to the couch. “So, what’s been up with you, Mr. Wolfman, when you aren’t busy breaking televisions?”

“You saw that?” Derek bristled a little.

“Yeah, me and everyone else on the planet…honestly, what have you been up to?”

“Nothing really. Finally got Erica back home, but you know that, helping Jackson with his battle plan to win back Lydia, and that’s about it.”

“So, Stiles…you tap that yet?” Isaac quirked his eyebrow and barely concealed a smirk.

“Really Isaac?” Derek had forgotten how much of what Isaac said was in how he used his face. “No, it isn’t like that with us, he can’t sit still and he can’t shut up and he just rubs me the wrong way.”

“So, what, he reminds you of me but without the rubbing on you part?” Isaac was smiling, Derek knew he was joking, but maybe the joke hit a little too close to home. “Honestly, Der, you still playing at being a lone wolf?”

“You know that. If my career was everything even before it took off, what makes you think it’s any different now? Maybe…” Derek paused, licked his lips,”…maybe…if I found the right guy, it would be worth risking everything for…” Derek trailed off awkwardly, but Isaac knew what he wanted to know.

Isaac looked in the direction of the kitchen and absently played with the edges of the couch cushion before speaking up. “I’m exploring my options. I haven’t ruled out anyone from my past, but I’m not closed off to the possibility of meeting someone new, either. I like to love people, remember?” He stopped playing with the couch and looked Derek directly in the eyes. “The thing is, Der, you said ‘maybe if you found’ the right guy, not ‘maybe if you got the right guy back’. You and I, we were good, we were great at times, but we weren’t right. I have no problems being there when you want _me_ , but I _cannot_ be your fallback guy. I can’t be there when you want someone else, but are too afraid to tell them. Figure out what you want, then just go and get it.” Isaac kissed Derek on the forehead, got up, and walked away. Derek didn’t pay attention to where Isaac went, instead opting to get a beer, and talk to Scott, checking to see if he’d ever figured out what was up with Allison.

So now, here he is, playing catch with himself. His best friend is going to be a dad. His cousins are both finally, successfully figuring out their love lives and his fall back guy is hooking up with his Stiles. Well, not _his_ Stiles, but with Stiles, who cannot stop moving, and cannot shut up and who says the worst things at the most inopportune times…. and who now knows that Derek is gay.

Well shit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am amazingly sorry that this is late. I got taken down with a migraine yesterday. Ain't nothing being posted when I have a migraine.  
> Jeff Davis is a gift, and the rightful owner of TW and it's characters  
> Katieepretzel is beyond amazing, fyi any and all mistakes, mine not hers  
> to all my readers and reviewers, faves and followers and bookmarkers and just....all of you, THANK YOU  
> This chapter is short. I just fell in love with it, and adding any more would have changed the tone.

_November 2010,_

Stiles heard his phone, rolled over, smacked Isaac in the face, jumped at contact with another person, kicked Isaac when he jumped, and _finally_ answered his phone. “WHAT!”

“Really, son? I thought I taught you better than that,” his dad said into the phone at that same time as Isaac said, “What the hell, does Lydia or Scott call you at this time _every morning_ they think I spent the night?”

“No, not at all, it’s just coincidence,” Stiles answered Isaac, before turning his attention back to his phone. “Dad, hey, sorry about that, it’s just been the cavalcade of early wake up calls around here. What can I do ya for?”

“For starters you can tell me who exactly is sleeping in your bed? And then you can tell me if it’s going to be safe for Melissa and I to stay with you over Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah Dad, you and Ms. McCall can totally stay here. I know that everyone normally stays with me, because it’s just me in the house, but I only have the one spare bedroom.  Normally I would turn my bedroom over to you and give her the spare, but that would just be weird right now.” Stiles paused for breath and to share a lazy grin with Isaac, all sleep warm and tousled in bed next to him. “So are you going to be alright on the couch? Do you want me to get a new sleeper sofa? Do you want me to get a bigger house? I can do that I think, I would have to ask Lydia for certain but I could totally get a bigger house I think, just not before you visit, so that wouldn’t work after all… never mind, you’ll need to take the couch, or the new sleeper, _ooooh_ or a futon?.”

Stiles heard his dad clear his throat. “No, no, Melissa and I sharing the guest room will be fine.”

“Well then that’s settled, and I assume you’ll be here the weekend before, since you always are, and wait WHAT THE HELL?! You and _Melissa_ will share a room, a room with just one bed in it?” Stiles rolled out of the bed, barely getting his feet under him to stand and almost losing his pants on the process, and started pacing. “Like, totally in a platonic, ‘we don’t want anyone to feel awkward walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water at some ungodly hour of the night’ sort of room sharing, right? Not like a ‘hey, I’m going to make you scream, accept that you can’t because we’re  IN MY SON’S HOUSE’ sort of room sharing, right? RIGHT? Dad, I am not kidding, don’t tell me that I need to give you and MS. MCCALL, NOT MELISSA, the bad-touch, no-no speech!”

“You do know that Melissa and I have been dating for a while, right, Stiles?”

“LALALALALALALALA I CANNOT HEAR YOU! I’m WALKING AWAY NOW!” Stiles set the phone on his bed and walked out of the room, hands covering his ears.

                                                                                &^&

Isaac watched Stiles leave the room and then picked up the phone.  “Hello, Sheriff Stilinski? This is Isaac. I…uhm…I’m dating your son-”

“Isaac, you’re in my only child’s bed, on his phone, after he had a freak out that his dad is dating. I heard you when I first called, so you’ve been woken in his bed by Lydia and Scott calling, presumably enough for it to be a semi-frequent occuerence. Let’s not play games or beat around the bush here- you’re sleeping with my son.”

“Wow. Yeah….I don’t…..” Isaac got out of bed to look down the hallway to see if Stiles was there. “I just need you to know that I care about him…a lot.”

“Good, then just listen. Melissa and I are coming in a just over a week. This means that you have that long to distract him, get him to be okay with this,just… something. I’ll call Lydia, I’ll make sure Melissa talks to Allison, as even hormonal she’s going to take this better than Scott, assuming she hasn’t figured it out, what with the hand holding, the kissing, the hugging…”

Isaac laughed before responding. “Sir…Mr. Stilinski….Sheriff…do you even have a first name?” He had an earful of laughter for a reply. “I’ll do what I can to calm him down.  Remind him that there is nothing wrong with having people love you, or with having the people you love love each other. I’m not saying I love him, I mean, I already told you I care for him a great deal, and I am not saying I don’t love him-“

“Isaac, I need to get to work. It’s why I called so early, as I pull a double today, and wanted to finalize plans before I left. I’ll see for myself what’s going on between you and my boy soon.”

“Okay, Sir…Mister Stilinski…Let Ms. McCall know it’s all set, have a good day at work, and we’ll see you in a bit.”  He ended the phone call, and went in search of Stiles.

                                                                                &^&

“Did you talk to him?” Stiles really couldn’t help the petulant tone in his voice. He was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in his softest blanket, hands warming around a mug of coffee.  Isaac sat next to him, folding him into a hug, and resting his chin on Stiles’ head.

“Yeah, I did. So, does your dad have a first name? It seems weird to call him Mister or Sheriff, but Papa or Dad seems presumptive.”

Stiles couldn’t control the laugh that spilled out of him. He wriggled and twisted, tangled himself in the blanket further, before he was finally able to turn and tip his face up enough to kiss Isaac.  “Thank you for that. I needed it. My dad, well, no one ever uses his first name, it’s always Sheriff, Dad, Papa, Sir, Mister, Honey, Sweetie, Baby….holy fuck Melissa calls my dad Honey and Sweetie and Baby! They _are_ dating! I have to call Scott, I have to-“ Stiles bit off his words. There was a hand down his pajama pants. It was not his own. Long fingers were wrapped around him, grasping and stroking and squeezing and twisting. A tongue was on his neck, his earlobe, teeth pressing in, and then a puff of breath against his ear.

Stiles whimpered, arched his neck, “Isaac…kiss…please…” had lips against his own, tongue in a hot, wet mouth, his teeth on a lip as his hips thrust against a strong fist. He broke the kiss to lean his head on Isaac’s shoulder to anchor himself on the back of the couch, and brace himself as he came.

“Dammit Isaac, now I need to wash that blanket.” Stiles giggled as he relaxed into the other man.

“I figured something more drastic was needed to shut you up.” Isaac ran his hand along Stiles’ back. “Now, your dad and his girlfriend are coming to visit for Thanksgiving. Scott’s mom and her boyfriend are coming to visit for Thanksgiving. The fact that there are only two people coming for Thanksgiving is all you need to accept.”

“I’ll work on that. Can you work on something for me?” Stiles smirked a little against Isaac’s shoulder.

“Whatever you want, within reason.”

“Never talk about my dad right after getting me off, okay?”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore katieepretzel, she has done so much to help with the formation of these characters.  
> for those who follow me on tumblr, the random asking people about gratuitous shower masturbation? yeeeeeahhhhh  
> So, here you are, Chapter 10!

_November, 2010_

5:30 in the morning and the phone is ringing. Again. “Derek, if you’re still coming to Thanksgiving with us, just know it’s going to be so, _so_ very awkward this year!” Scott said in an incredibly high-pitched half-scream.

“What the ever loving fuck, Scott? The sun hasn’t risen yet, are you incapable of calling me when it’s daylight? Also, Hello! It’s a standard greeting when calling someone, fuckwit.” Derek growled into his phone. Seriously, at least four times a week since Scott and Allison found out they were expecting, Scott had been calling at some ungodly hour.

“Ugly Breakfast! Allison said she’ll make you Ugly Breakfast if you can come over right now and make me calm down!” Scott hung up. Derek looked at the screen of his phone for a minute processing - something about Thanksgiving dinner and Scott being awkward and Ugly Breakfast.  So… that means that if he can manage to haul his ass out of bed and go to Scott’s now, Allison will make him the scramble with the eggs, peppers, onions, potatoes, sausage, gravy and cheese.  If she’s offering up something that intensive to make with how bad the morning sickness has been, she must be desperate. Derek ran through his mental checklist of things to do before leaving the house: coffee, shower, dressed, grab bag of mints for Allison – she’d been using them to treat her morning sickness and Scott always forgot to buy her more, because you know, Scott. Derek has a stash of them in his kitchen now.

Getting the coffee pot set up and running was routine. The shower afterwards was as well. This meant thinking about Isaac who was more than likely in bed with Stiles right now, making the other man moan and writhe with those long fingers and that talented tongue. Totally thinking about Isaac, the man he couldn’t have, and not Stiles, the man he didn’t like, and therefore didn’t want.  Totally not thinking about the way Stiles would wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. Totally not wondering about how those lips would taste kissed to the point of being swollen and bruised. Not wondering about how Stiles would feel in the shower, water streaming down his chest, his abdomen. Not wondering about how his hair would feel, wet, under his palm, or the way his eyes would look as he stared up from his knees. No, definitely not thinking about that at all.

Derek perfunctorily washed himself, knowing the quicker the shower, the lesser the temptation.  He can admit when he’s thinking things he shouldn’t, but he can also refuse to act on them. While he washed his hair, he thought about how Stiles is all talk, all the time. Derek knows it’s the ADD, occasionally there’s literally no filter for the other man, and that sometimes, Stiles is entirely incapable of shutting his brain down. Derek wants to know what it would take to quiet not only the mouth, but the mind. He knows that you can’t talk if your mouth is full…hell, he daydreams about shutting that boy (man) up with his tongue, his fingers, his…but what would it take to actually quiet his brain, how much would it take, heaving and sweating and tasting…..to let him rest.

The thing is, he finds Stiles to be annoying, but endearing. When he isn’t thinking about how he’d like to kill him, he thinks about an overeager, people-pleasing kid. He knows that he and Stiles are same age, but Stiles is still just a big kid, excited about everything and emotional and pure and raw. Derek really has no clue how the world hasn’t figured out that Stiles is gay. With him, he hides it, he makes a point of having a surly, gruff image and the press leave him alone.  Stiles, though, he’s all over the place, and even though he has women on his arm, you can clearly tell he doesn’t want them that way.  You can read everything in his eyes, the set of his mouth, the tilt of his head…not that Derek studies him. Then again, Derek thought Stiles was with Lydia before he actually met him, so what does he know. All of this is moot, though, as Stiles is currently dating Isaac, is currently making a dear friend happy. All of this is moot, because Derek _does not want_ Stiles.

At least, that’s what he tells himself as he towels off, that’s what he tells himself as his hand chases the water droplets the towel missed, trailing from his shoulder across his chest, down to his navel, pausing at his hip before taking himself in his fist. It’s just a basic biological need for release, and has nothing to do with that lush pink mouth, those honey and amber eyes. He is not stroking himself faster nor holding himself tighter because he can hear, so perfectly in his head, the exact moment that the other man’s voice would go from talking to incoherent moans. Nor did he come, gasping, head pressed against the wall, back arched like a bow, thinking about the way he would taste on Stiles’ quicksilver tongue.

No. He doesn’t like Stiles. He doesn’t need Stiles. Isaac has Stiles and them being together is the way it should be. As long as he keeps telling himself that, he’ll be fine.

After getting dressed and downing some more coffee, he grabbed the mints off of the counter and drove to Scott and Allison’s.  Allison was the one at the door when he knocked, and he immediately noticed how rough she was looking. This was not, in his experience, normal pregnant woman roughness. He remembers when his Uncle Peter’s girlfriend was pregnant. He remembers how Kate would be up all night with back pain and nausea. He also remembers the way she would smile small, secret and private smiles, when Gerard would kick and bounce inside of her. This was not that sort of rough, no, this was classic ‘Scott is going to be the death of me’ roughness. There is a pinched look to the corner of her eyes, tightness to the knuckles on the hand she is grasping her tea mug with. All the uniform signs of someone trying desperately to not beat Scott McCall senseless. Derek has seen the look in the mirror many times.

“Al, don’t even worry about breakfast, drink your tea, have some mints, and tell me what he did.” Being careful of her tea, he gently gathered her into a loose hug. “Do I need to hurt him for you? I will. I’m very good with a bat. If he isn’t treating you right….”

“No, Der. He’s been a saint. I’m made of spun sugar and blown glass right now, as far as he’s concerned. It’s his mom.” Allison practically collapsed against Derek as she explained. “Melissa is seeing Stiles’ dad. Papa Stilinski called Stiles and Mel called and asked if she could tell Scott, and, it isn’t pretty.”

“Okay…why am I here?” Derek was honestly puzzled as to what he was supposed to be doing.

“I don’t know. Tell him to be a man. Tell him that there are worse things than his mom dating the person who’s been a father figure to him for years. Make him stop being a big baby about this!” Allison got louder and shriller with each word. “Just make him understand that he has to be a fucking adult right now,” she ground out.

Derek noticed Scott come up behind them during Allison’s rant, but didn’t stop her. Scott needed to hear why his wife was upset.

“So,” Derek rumbled over Allison’s head, “anything you want to explain?”

“Shit, Al…I never meant to upset you, baby!” Scott whined. “Just, my mom is having sex. With Stiles’ dad! This doesn’t seem wrong to you?”

“Scott, seriously, that’s what has you all out of sorts? You’ve been slamming doors and whining and being a bitch because your mom is having sex?” Allison didn’t turn her head, so her words were muffled by Derek’s shirt.

“Sex with PAPA STILINSKI! He’s the sheriff, he has handcuffs, and Stiles is his kid and…just, no.”

Derek couldn’t help what happened next. He tried not to laugh. He’d swear to his _dying day_ that he tried not to laugh. The fact that he was laughing so hard he had to sit down was entirely irrelevant; at least he managed to untangle from Allison before he collapsed. “Dude, you’re married, going to be a dad soon, and you’re worried that, what, your mom is having kinky sex and that Stiles might end up your step-brother? Really Scott? Jackson and Erica found out right when you and I met that their dad got someone a few years older than us pregnant. Yeah, that meant they were forced to accept the reality that their dad was having sex, but they were happy for him because he was happy, and _he was making our family bigger_. Fuck, you’ve met Gerry, he’s the coolest six year old ever.” Derek was gasping he was laughing so hard. “Chill the fuck out dude, you have a _mom_ who loves you, and she is dating the man you acted like a _dad_ to you for so long, and you’re upset by this? She’s happy, she’s gonna have a grandbaby soon, maybe she wants to share it with someone and she chose him.” Derek suddenly stopped laughing; in fact he was almost somber. “I would love to have your problems right now. I’m not going to have kids, and I don’t have parents to freak out about. Be happy. At the very least, put on your big boy pants and deal.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. Finally, Allison spoke up. “Scott, can I trust you to not injure yourself dicing potatoes? I think we owe this man a plate of Ugly!” She rushed into the kitchen.

“I didn’t mean to be an ass.” Scott said.

“You never do.” Derek replied, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Thing is, Allison still loves you, and I’m used to it by now. Go help your woman.”

Breakfast was made, and eaten, in relative silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, more one of processing. Derek was flattered, even if annoyed, that he is the one that was called, not Lydia, not Stiles, him. Maybe he had more family than he thought.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katieepretzel is amazing, as always. Seriously, Katie, this story would be unreadable without you to wrangle my commas and keep me tethered in one tense.
> 
> There is talk of panic attacks in this chapter. All of the feelings and advice associated with them are things that I have felt and been told, when I have panic attacks and the meds don't work, or I can't take them. I am not a doctor, and anxiety disorders are different for everyone, so please, take it with a grain of salt. I write what I know, so Stiles' issues will be written the way mine are.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the tippy tip of the Thanksgiving 2010 iceberg.

_Thanksgiving, 2010_

Stiles had no clue what to do.

Calling Scott was out- he’d just freak out, which would make Stiles freak out even more, and the cycle of totally masculine freaking the fuck out would begin. He could call Isaac, but Isaac and Boyd were across the country in New York, doing family stuff that had come up out of nowhere. He could call Erica, at least they could grump together about not having Isaac and Boyd around, but Erica wouldn’t get why he was so upset by what he just witnessed. Lydia would laugh at him, and then eviscerate him for calling so early. Fuck it, Lydia might laugh, but she’d understand.

“Lydia, so sorry for calling so early, but it’s a mental health emergency and I didn’t know what to do and I cannot handle this and anything that would help me handle it is in the bathroom off the hallway and I cannot go in there right now, you can’t make me!” He was almost hyperventilating.

“Shit, man, shit, one minute-“Stiles was pretty certain that it was a man on Lydia’s phone; he heard the rustle of fabric and murmuring. Great. He’d not only woken Lydia, but also Jackson, as he’s the only man who would be in her bed. “’Lo, Stiles, it’s so early, and Jackson said you were freaking out. Take two deep breaths then tell me why you’re calling me at…six in the morning on Thanksgiving. If this is about cranberry sauce again…”

Stiles inhaled, then exhaled as much as he could, then did it again. One more deep inhale. “Lydia, my brain woke me up and I couldn’t get back to sleep and I couldn’t focus and I decided that this was a good time for my Adderall and I was keeping it in the bathroom in the hallway because then I have to actually decide to walk in there and get it and and and….” Stiles was hyperventilating again.

“STILES! Do you need me to come over, or call an ambulance?” Lydia shouted over the phone.

“Dad and Melissa.” Stiles gasped.

“I know Papa and Mel are there…why didn’t you wake them up?”

“Dad and Melissa were in the bathroom. _Naked_. At the same time! They were….they….cannot be unseen….”

“Oh, baby. Did you walk in on them?” Stiles could hear the laughter in her voice. He could also hear Jackson snort-giggling in the background.

“Mm-hmm, and I can’t go back in there, Lyd. You need to come over, right now.” Stiles demanded, sounding so much like a little child.

“Honey, why don’t you just ask Papa to go back in the bathroom and get you your Adderall, also one of the pills for your panic attacks?”

“Lydiaaaaaaa….they’re _still in there!_ They didn’t even notice me, and they didn’t stop and why wouldn’t they have locked the door Lydia, why? I didn’t need to know that I didn’t need to hear that and I so didn’t need to see that, ever, in my entire life!” As soon as he finished talking Lydia started laughing. She kept laughing until all that was coming out of her mouth were little whiney breaths and Stiles started to be concerned for her, his concern started to outweigh his panic. “Lyd, are you okay? Do you need me to tell you to breathe, like you tell me?”

“Oh, Stiles, think about how’d you be laughing if this was anyone else’s parents. Think about the stand-up you would get from, I don’t know…Erica calling you and telling you she walked in on Peter and Kate. I know you can handle this.”

“But Lydia, you didn’t see what I saw!”

“What did you see, Son?”

Stiles jumped, dropping his phone. Lydia was guffawing so loudly that you could hear it, even with the phone on the floor. He looked up into the concerned face of his dad and behind his dad, the concerned face of Melissa. They both had wet hair, Stiles noted.

“I….and then you….and her….and” Stiles could feel the panic welling back up. Melissa walked over to him, and started trying to calm him down, but he just cringed and pulled deeper into himself. He could hear his dad talking on his phone, and then saw his dad turn bright red before ending the call, and calling Melissa away from Stiles.

“Son, I’m sorry we didn’t lock the door. I assumed you wouldn’t need the hall bath, as you have the bathroom off of your room. Lydia and Jackson are coming over, and we’re just gonna….” He started laughing, and pulled Melissa into the guest room with him.

Stiles knew he was overreacting, he was being irrational, and knowing that just made the panic attack worse. He did his best to breathe normally, he did his best to unclench his hands, unfurl his fingers, and straighten his legs. The rational part of his mind told him to lay flat on the floor, relax each and every muscle starting at the fingertips and the tips of his toes. The part of him that saw his dad banging his best friend’s mom however, wanted him to be rocking in a little ball in the corner, and that was the part that was currently winning.

Stiles doesn’t know how long he was curled on the floor for when Lydia and Jackson walked in but he realize that this is the first time Jackson had been inside his house. “Awesome, yes, welcome to my Crib,” Stiles said from his spot against the wall, “this is me on the floor, in plaid flannel sleep pants I stole from my boyfriend, and given their size, I think he stole them from one of _his_ ex-boyfriends, and there are implications about who’s pants I am actually in at the moment that I don’t want to explore. If you look to he left you will see the bathroom that I can never enter again, and to the right is my bedroom, and the bedroom that I can _never enter again_ because if the bathroom is game, the bedroom is a room with a bed, hell, it’s on!” Stiles was halfway between laughing and crying at this point.

“Alright, everything is fine now, Lydia’s here.” Lydia cooed as she crouched down next to Stiles. “Now, Jackson is going to help me get you laid out on the floor, and then we’re going to snuggle you, and you’ll feel better.”

“We will?” Jackson squeaked out.

Lydia must have glared Jackson into submission. Small yet strong, feminine hands gripped Stiles’ shoulders, and turned and tilted him until his back was against the floor. Warm and larger hands grabbed his left ankle and calf, and slowly started to straighten out his leg. Once his left leg was done, the right got the same treatment. All Stiles was really paying attention to at that point was Lydia’s fingers in his short hair, and the quiet, slow, sweet tune she was humming. Finally, after what felt like eons, but was more than likely less than two hours from when he first woke up this morning, Stiles was able to relax, to breathe easy, and to process everything fully.

“Ca…hremph…can you get me a glass of water?” he asked. Jackson got up, leaving him and Lydia alone. She was still stroking his hair and humming. “I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I just made it worse by worrying about who to call. I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”

“Stop it. You cannot control when you have a panic attack. You needing your Adderall probably didn’t help, either. No more apologizing.” Lydia immediately went back to humming after she spoke.

“Lydia…is that?”

“Yes. Hush now, and let it out.”

Lydia resumed humming Golden Slumbers, and Stiles, well, Stiles just lost it. Golden Slumbers, hell, anything off of The Beatles _Abbey Road_ , but especially Golden Slumbers, is what his mom used to sing and hum to him when he had panic attacks as a kid. Stiles knew that everyone thought the attacks started after she died, but he’d had them for as long as he can remember. She’d just been there to shelter him. Lydia using that song, coupled with the exhaustion that always accompanied one of these broke him. He was crying for his mom, crying because his dad finally moved on, which was good but still sad, and he’s crying because he is so tired, so very tired.

“He gonna be alright?” He heard Jackson ask above his head.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Can you go get his dad and Melissa?” Lydia asked while still holding Stiles, still on the floor.

“Sure, hey, Lyd…what’s his dad’s name?”

Lydia and Stiles both started laughing hysterically. Stiles sounded awful, as he had just stopped crying, and was hiccupping in between peals of laughter.

A door opened down the hallway, Melissa and Stiles’ dad came out, and immediately walked to where Lydia and Stiles were, each taking a side and holding onto the kids.

“I’m just gonna stand here with this water and wonder why it’s so funny I asked for your name.”

“He’s Dad, or Papa. I suppose you could call him Sheriff or Mister Stilinski if you were feeling formal, or _babe_ if you’re Melissa,” Stiles said from the middle of the group cuddle. “He played father figure to everyone in that town who didn’t have a dad around, or who had dads that didn’t care.” Stiles and his dad both squeezed Lydia.

“Huh, and Melissa?”

“Oh, Jackson, I know his name, trust me.” Melissa smirked.

“Oh, no, nononono, this is what is wrong with you two dating. No child should have to hear their parents make sex jokes. No child should walk in on their parents having sex. NO ONE SHOULD SEE THAT!” Stiles shouted.

“Hell, I walked in on Peter and Kate last time I visited them.” Jackson laughed. “They were so worried that I was the babysitter bringing home Gerry early, I think it scarred them more than me.”

“It’s different for you, though.”

“Why, Stiles?” Jackson sat against the opposite wall in the hall.

“What?” Stiles looked at Jackson, confused.

“Why is it different for me? I walked in on my dad banging his girlfriend. You walked in on your dad. If anything, it was worse for me, Melissa is a total MILF, Kate is like five years older than me, at the most. I didn’t need to see that.”

“It’s just…Melissa isn’t my mom.” Stiles whispers.

“Oh, Stiles, I can never be her, but I love your dad, and I love you, and really, I make your dad happy and that’s what matters.” Melissa held on to Stiles a little tighter.

Jackson cleared his throat. “Well, this has been an amazingly awkward morning. Stiles, are you still making pies for tonight?” Stiles nodded to answer Jackson. “Good, did they tell you that Peter, Kate and Gerry are joining us? It shouldn’t be a problem since Isaac and Boyd aren’t here.”

“Okay, one moment though. Melissa, you really love my dad?” Stiles asked, barely audible, with his head tucked into his chest.

“Of course! I have for years.”

“I know that, he’s been an excellent friend, but you _love_ him, like, you’re in love with him?”

“Stiles,” He felt Melissa tilt his chin until he was looking at her, “ _I am in love with him._ I love you like my son. Hell, kid, you told Jackson you walked in on your parents! I am never going to replace your mom. She was irreplaceable. Before she passed, in the hospital, she told me she wanted your dad to be happy, she wanted your dad to find someone, someday, who could make him smile again. I am blessed that it is me.”

“Well good then.” Stiles hugged Melissa, and then stood up. “Ok, yeah, pies, I can do that. Melissa, are you going to help me in the kitchen? You always do and I’d really appreciate it. Oh, and Jackson and Lydia, you’re free to stick around; I’ll be making pancakes for breakfast, and coffee. Dad, you need to clean the bathroom counters. And change the sheets.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> katieepretzel is amazing, and I love her. any and all mistakes are mine, any references to aliens are because of her, and had me cracking my shit up. She wrangled my commas, kept me anchored in space-time, and reminded me that sometimes I make my characters irrationally harsh, grumpy, or angry for no reason. She reminds me that not everyone knows what is happening in my brain, or what HAS happened in my brain, for them.  
> I hope you enjoy it.

_Thanksgiving, 2010_

Derek sat at his kitchen counter, drinking coffee (black, thank you very much) and watching his youngest cousin literally run circles in the living room. There was a decent chance his coffee table and sofa would have a nice carpet crop-circle by Black Friday. “Peter, I have no clue how you do it, man.”

“Do what?” Peter asked from the other side of the counter.

“You’re forty-five; you have a girlfriend who is sixteen years younger than you, a twenty-five year old daughter, a twenty-four year old son, and a five year old. How do you keep up, old man?” Derek hid his smile in his mug.

“Stamina…tons of stamina.” Peter waggled his eyebrows. “Seriously, I have no clue, _little boy_. I’m just gifted like that. I have Erica and Jay; I have Kate and Gerry, and I have you.” Peter sipped his coffee, and motioned for Derek to look behind him.  Gerard had stopped attempting to mark an alien invasion in his living room and was now sleeping in the middle of the floor. “See, the kid woke up too early, just ran and ran until he passed out. That’s how I do it.”

“You run ‘til you pass out?” Derek snorted, then gulped down more coffee.

“No, Der,” Kate said from the hall, “he runs the _kids_ until they pass out. I saw him take Erica to the mall, and he dragged her around for _hours_ trying on jackets and boots… she fell asleep in the car on the way home. That was like, three weeks ago.” Kate walked into the kitchen, stepping over Gerry and around the men in order to get her own coffee. “Jackson, when he found out that Lydia was single again? Peter took him golfing for _hours_ until the poor boys arms were practically falling off. Also fell asleep in the car.”

“Kate, I only see them every now and then, of course I’m going to make the most of it!” Peter sounded so sad to Derek, but then Peter stuck out his tongue.

“Have you and Kate thought about moving here? Gerry starts first grade next year, right?” Kate and Peter nodded, eerily in sync. “So, sell your place up north and move down here. The schools are good. You’d have your family near you, you‘d get to spend more time with Erica, and I bet Allison will fall in love with you _and_ come to you for baby advice.” Derek stopped talking when he noticed the look his uncle was giving him. “What?”

“Are you dying? Just tell me now, so that I have time to prepare my moving but ultimately hilarious and embarrassing eulogy.” Peter asked, bluntly.

“No….not to my knowledge.” Derek replied, confused.

“You’re being nice, showing emotion, thinking about others…..are you getting married?”

“NO!”

“Oh…..I know,” Peter stopped, turned to Kate, “Katie honey, can you take your coffee into the room for a while? Derek and I-“

“I know, I know, I am not in the know on everything, and it stays that way unless and until I marry you.” Kate sing-songed as she reversed her earlier trek around the guys, over Gerry, and back into the guest room.

“Alright then, is it Isaac and this Stiles kid?”

“What?”

Peter drained his mug and refilled both his and Derek’s before speaking again. “Look, D, your cousins, they love you, and they worry. Jay told me that Isaac started dating this Stilinski chap,” Peter paused to smack his lips a couple of extra times to properly emphasize chap, “and that you seemed upset that you lost Isaac.”

“Whoa, Uncle Peter, it’s really not about that.” Derek said.

“So, you like Stiles then?”

“What, no, wait…no, just…why would you ask that?”

“Look, you’re obviously upset about something, so it’s either the actor or Isaac or there’s some new guy we don’t know about. OH! _IS THERE_?”

“No, there’s no one.” Derek sighed, looked at Peter, and let his head drop onto his arms, now folded on the table in front of him. “That’s the problem, I don’t have anyone. Everyone else has someone, and I don’t.”

“Buck the fuck up, kiddo. You have a huge family if you just open your eyes to it. Honestly, you could have _someone_ if you let yourself, as well. Of course, part of letting yourself would be realizing that you might have to risk some things, but not nearly as much as you think. You may lose an endorsement or two, but you’d gain honest fans, fans of you, not your playing. You’d be a role model for young gay athletes everywhere” Peter’s voice went from caring to blunt. “Derek, you have a mountain of money, and no one to spend it on. You can’t keep saying you are staying closeted for Scott because he _also_ has a mountain of money, but he has a wife and a baby on the way to spend his on. Stop being afraid. Let someone in.”

“Not afraid. Don’t know why I even talked to you about this.” Derek grumbled. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Well, Erica tells of a boy, a magical, I’ve heard very attractive, boy, who makes pillows of comfort and calls them pancakes. She talked him out of his recipe and then gave it to me, so I’m making them.”

“What?”

“I’m going to make Stiles’ pancakes for breakfast. Apparently, I need to serve them with whipped butter? The recipe was very specific.” Peter stood up and walked to the sink with their two coffee cups. “Can you grab Kate, and wake up Gerry?”

Derek walked in a haze to knock on the guest room door. Then he wandered back into the living room, sat cross-legged on the floor and scooped Gerry up into his lap.

“Hey little dude, I know that right now you’re all about dinosaurs and lizards and turtles and baseball movies, but one day, you will like a girl or a boy. When that day comes, make sure your dad never _ever_ finds out, or he’ll say odd things to you.” Derek checked to make sure he hadn’t actually woken the child before placing a gentle kiss on his head. “GERRY WAKE UP GODZILLA IS ATTACKING!” Derek shouted while ticking his cousin.

“D! No, don’t tickle me! I’m gonna pee on you if you don’t stop!” Gerry choked out around laughing. Derek immediately stopped ticking the boy and let him go. Gerry jumped up and ran to the bathroom.

“So, you think Peter says odd things?” Derek whipped around to see Kate, leaning against hallway wall. “I saw you being all gentle with Gerard, too. You know one day you’ll have your own, and everyone will see that you’re not actually this sour-faced grump of a man all the time.”

“Not happening Kate.”

“You can’t say that. You’re only twenty-five! You’re good looking; I would assume that like Peter, you know how to treat a woman right, so why is it not happening?” Kate walked towards him.

Derek stared at Kate for a moment, trying to figure out if she was serious or not. He and his family, they never talked about his sexuality in front of her, but it wasn’t hidden either. Yeah, Peter would have her go somewhere else when they talked about it, but he would also have her leave the room when they talked about family finances as, well, Peter figured eventually she’d give in and accept his proposal. Derek knew she’d met Isaac before but he never actually introduced Isaac as his boyfriend, and he doesn’t recall them being affectionate in front of her.

“Of course,” Kate continued, meeting his stare, “when you finally find the right man and settle down, I bet you could adopt!”

“How did you know?” Derek was surprised at how level his voice was when he asked that.

“Derek, I’m not an idiot, and I’m not blind. I have _never_ seen you on a date with a woman. I have never seen you on a date period! You’ve been available every time we’ve needed a sitter when in town for the last five years. A few of those times, you had a friend, a poker buddy, Isaac leaving when we showed up, but never a woman. So, am I an idiot, untrustworthy, or what?”

“You’re not _family_ , Kate.” Derek was quiet. “You gave us Gerry, and I love you for that, but you aren’t family, not yet.”

“But I AM family!”

“Then marry my uncle, I know he’s asked!” Derek stood, towered over Kate. Kate was glaring at him in return.

“I was _planning_ on it!” Kate shouted.

The sound of a breaking dish came from the kitchen at the same time a childlike squeal and clapping came from the hallway.

“Katie? Really?” Peter asked, rushing out of the kitchen.

“D! You made Momma say she’s gonna marry Poppa! She said I get to wear a torpedo in the wedding!”

“Yes, really Peter, I was going to tell you at dinner.” Kate turned from Derek, opening her arms to scoop up Gerry who had returned from the bathroom and was bouncing by her leg. “Little Gerard, you’ll be wearing a TUXEDO not a torpedo, they’re different. Now, I got angry and loud at your Cousin D, so I need to apologize, because that is what we do when we use loud words, right?” Gerry nodded, trying to look solemn, but with so much happiness in his eyes.

“Kate-“Derek started, only to be cut off.

“Derek, I _am_ sorry. I didn’t handle that correctly.” Kate said, winking.

“Uhm- oh, I accept your apology?” Derek questioned.

“Thank you.” Kate said, right before being hugged from behind by Peter.

“Derek, could you, maybe? I know it’s a holiday but-“

“Yeah, I’ll see about clearing out. Want me to take Gerry?” Derek asked Peter, who just nodded, hiding his smile in his _fiancé’s_ hair. Derek sent a text, and after a few moments, got one back from Jackson saying he was with Lydia and some friends, but that everyone would love to see Derek and Gerry, and there was an address for their location.

“Hey, Gerry? Wanna go out and see your big brother, Lydia and some friends for breakfast?” Derek crouched down.

“Yeah! Jay is silly and I miss him, and Lydia is **_so_** pretty.”

“All right then, little man. Give your mom and dad hugs and tell them we’ll see them in a few hours. Also tell them we will call before we come home, and that your cousin Derek’s room is off limits. And so is the couch, and _any_ surface that cannot be bleached or put into my washing machine.” Derek smirked a little at Kate’s blush and Peter’s grin. “Ready for a Thanksgiving adventure, Gerry?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am forever indebted to Katieepretzel for helping me to get this up today. She busted her ass, ON HER BIRTHDAY, to get this beta'd. Thank you, bebe, and happiest of birthdays.
> 
> I don't own it, y'know
> 
> this is a shorty of a chapter again, but never fear, the next chap is shaping up to be pretty huge.   
> Enjoy

Stiles sighed, screwed up his mouth and very, _incredibly_ carefully drizzled pancake batter off of the edge of a spoon onto the hot griddle. “Dammit!” he snapped, before scraping it off, adjusting the temperature of the stovetop, and trying it again.

“What’s he trying to do?” Melissa whispered from her perch in the dining room.

“Make a baseball pancake, I think he said.” Lydia whispered back, tapping on the screen of her phone.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Stiles asked from the kitchen. “According to Jackson, Gerald, Gerry, or G-man,as I’m partial to, likes baseball and lizards. I’m not making lizard shaped pancakes, not because I can’t, but because I refuse to on principle, and Mom used to make baseball ones for me when I was his age, so I should be able to.” Stiles’ voice broke a little when he said Mom, but otherwise, he sounded confident.

“Son, use a whisk, it’s what she did. Lay out the laces, wait then ladle the rest. You seemed to like them enough.” The Sherriff walked into the kitchen while talking, placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and looked over at the griddle. The silence between the two men as Stiles worked stretched just to the point of being awkward, when Papa spoke again. “So, this kid, is there some reason you’re trying to impress him?”

Stiles flipped a baseball pancake, smiled, and replied, “He’s having a good day; I want to make it even better. Anyway, Jackson said I might not be happy with the kids ‘adult accompaniment’, whatever that means.”

“ _You didn’t tell him_?” Lydia hissed from the dining room at the same time a knock came from the general direction of the front door.

“Didn’t tell me what, Lyd? Also, someone get the door, I didn’t unlock it and I bet that’s the G-Man.” Stiles kept cooking and was somewhat unprepared for the squeal-shriek unique to an excited five year old. He jumped, almost burning himself, when the door opened and a boy shaped Tasmanian Devil entered his home in a cloud of proverbial dust.

“Jay! Miss Lydia! Oh _wow_ it smells good in here and OH MY _GOSH!_ DerekjacksonjaydeelydiadeedeedeejayJACKSONLYDIADEREK YOU GUYS KNOW STILES STILINSKI!”

Stiles whipped his head around, body following just a moment later. Did this child just say Derek? Did this child just freak the fuck out over meeting Stiles? Looking around, he saw Lydia smiling tensely, Jackson crouched down in front of a shining faced child, and yes, Derek Hale behind the boy. “Hey! I’m Stiles, it is very nice to meet you!” Stiles knelt down, elbowed Jackson out of the way, and offered his hand to the boy. Stiles looked up to see Derek smiling, actually smiling.

“I’m Gerard Hale, uhm, but people call me Gerry, I guess.” Gerry said his eyes huge, his voice wavering a little, and a look of apparent awe on his face.

“G-man it is!” Stiles said, offering a high-five and grinning wide when Gerry’s little hand reached up to his. Why don’t you go with Miss Lydia and our friend Miss Melissa, and get cleaned up for pancakes, because it’s time to eat!” Stiles could _not_ contain his excitement at having a kid in his house. A kid who was excited to be there, and somewhere beyond thrilled to have met him, although he had no idea why.

“Stilinski…thanks.” Derek said. “He wasn’t even this excited to meet Manny Ramirez, so this is _huge_ , and a great surprise. Isn’t it, Jackson, a surprise that I’m here, with Stiles, having breakfast on Thanksgiving?” Derek’s tone went from cordial to frightening as he turned to face his cousin.

“Yes Jackson,” Stiles snarked, waving the spatula that was still in his left hand, “it _is_ a surprise indeed that Derek is the adult with G-Man.” Stiles smacked Jackson with the spatula before he turned back towards Derek. “Not that I mind, at all, but what brings you around?”

“Oh, his parents just needed some alone time and I didn’t want to be around for that, let alone risk Gerry seeing or hearing it.” Derek mumbled, shuffling his feet and looking down.

“Did you hear that, Dad? SOME PEOPLE DON’T WANT THEIR KIDS HEARING OR SEEING!” Stiles shouted while stomping back into the kitchen in a very manly, not at all petulant child, sort of way.

“Some kids are _FIVE_!” His dad retorted before walking to Derek and offering his hand. “Hi! John Stilinski, nice to meet you!”

Stiles stopped his trek to the kitchen in order to watch his dad. John never introduced himself by name. Ever. In the history of the world, John Stilinski had only ever called himself Sherriff. Even when Stiles was a kid and brining his friends over to play tag and attempt to climb trees in the backyard. Something to do with threatening them all into submission, he supposed.

Maybe, given he’d brought his cousin over for breakfast, maybe, Stiles thought, given that he smiled and laughed, and oh that smile, and maybe, given that John introduced himself by name and not title, just _maybe_ Derek wasn’t such an ass after all.

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, I am coming in an hour five under the wire. I hope y'all appreciate it.  
> Thanks to my Beta Pack, the ever present, ever awesome, love of my Teen Wolf life katieepretzel, and the new addition bookbabble  
> I really hope you enjoy this.  
> I will say that there are so many things in this chapter that are important to upcoming events, you have no idea.  
> I don't own Adventure Time, but I do watch it regularly, and Jeff Davis is still a gift.

_Still Thanksgiving, 2010 (I know, longest holiday ever, right?)_

Derek sat at one end of the table, looking at John and Gerry at the other, and Stiles flitting between the table and the kitchen.

“So, Mr. Stilinksi?” Gerry asked, sounding very tired.

“Yes?” Both Stiles and John replied to the little boy.

“Is it true that you can hit a ball so far not even Manny could catch it?” Gerry looked up at the two men with the widest, most endearing puppy eyes. Even Derek’s immunity built over time couldn’t stop the tiny little clench of his heart.

“G-Man, it is the honest truth.” John said solemnly, sending Gerry into a fit of high-pitched giggles that shook the table. Stiles reached out and grabbed the plate before it made an escape attempt. Derek wasn’t quite sure where Stiles was keeping the Batman themed plate, silverware and plastic cup, all child-sized, but Gerry seemed to be attached to them.

“Not you, Mr. Papa, you’re already a police officer man, you can’t be that AND good at ball!” Gerry explained, before whisper-yelling, “I was asking Stiles!”

“But, Stiles acts _and_ tells jokes, also, the pancakes. Explain that, Gerry!” John said.

 Derek scoffed. He knew where this was heading. For some reason, Gerry thought that Stiles Stilinski was the best human alive, and from what he could tell it appeared to be reciprocated. Gerry asked for seconds, thirds and fourths of the pancakes (it was the highest compliment the five year old could pay), and Stiles preened, hopping up to make the kid another batch. He even made an extra batch so that Gerry could _take some home_. Honestly. Around his billionth mouthful, Gerry had said that the butter was “OMGAmazing, Stiles!”, and Stiles had explained, using age appropriate words, what to do to make it and promised to let Gerry make it the next time. _The next time_.

Gerry mentioned something about Adventure Time and Stiles had suddenly remembered he had a Jake toy by his computer with all of his Adventure Time Lego sets.  Said toy was now embedded in his cousin’s hair. Lydia had rolled her eyes and said something about never taking Stiles to Lego Land again for fear they would mistake him for her freakishly tall-for-his-age son, again. _That_ had been a mistake. The words “Lego” and “Land” should never be uttered together near Gerry, and adding stiles to that mix had lost everyone a good forty minutes of mindless hysteria between the two.

“Mister Stiles Stilinski can do _anything_ , you should know that because you’re his poppa!” Gerry said to John. Derek watched Stiles smile, and then walk into the kitchen only to reappear with a child-sized mug. Derek was beginning to wonder if Stiles was hiding a child somewhere in the house or if he just sat in his own home using child sized utensils. Derek’s brain briefly gave him an image of Stiles and babies and children and a dinner table with a waiting spot at the head and that aws the wrong image to be having right now.

“G-Man, do you know Miss Allison?” Stiles asked, holding the Transformers mug at a distance as a reward for the question. Knowing Stiles, it probably was.

“I do! She’s married to Mister Dumb-head, and they’re having a baby! She said I could hold the baby after it’s born!”

The adults in the room were laughing, John and Stiles both looked at Derek and mouthed ‘Mister Dumb-head’? Derek just shook his head with what he hoped was an ‘I’ll explain later’ expression on his face. John nodded, and Stiles just stared for a moment before nodding back and addressing Gerry.

“This is the cocoa that I make for Miss Allison. She says it’s the best cocoa ever, so I made some for you. When you finish drinking it, we’re all going to her and Mister _Scott’s_ house.”  Derek watched in wonder as Stiles petted the top of Gerry’s head and then calmly and quietly walked back into the kitchen.

This morning had been surreal. When he’d arrived at the small house, he’d been surprised to find Stiles there. He assumed that an actor and comic would live somewhere…more secure? Maybe with an obnoxious gate guard who sat in his little station and played pong all day. He’d pictured it with a pool and a huge, lush yard with plenty of room for running and playing. Maybe a fence to keep balls from getting away. Maybe chairs to watch the ki…shit. Derek shook his head to break himself out of that very dangerous line of thought. Again. What was with this kid and his damned pancakes?

 Eventually, he would have to ask Jackson what the hell he’d been up to, not warning him. Honestly though, he didn’t mind being here.  Lydia and Jackson were talking with Melissa, who Derek knows was dating John. From having years to watch Peter and Kate, Derek would place bets on Stiles and Scott freaking out sometime within a year about their parents impending wedding.  John was completely enamored with Gerry, and he looked like a man desperately in want of grandchildren. Occasionally John would shoot Derek a look, a look he couldn’t decipher, then John would be back to playing with the boy.

And then there was Stiles. Here, in his home, he was completely different than out in the world. Derek hasn’t witnesses the incessant babble, the seemingly trackless trains of thought that had seemed to follow Stiles everywhere else. Yes, the man was talkative, but it always had a purpose. Yes, he was always moving, but it was a fluid grace, a dance of familiarity and comfort in his surroundings.  Derek caught glimpses of this Stiles at Scott’s in Allison’s kitchen, but Isaac had been there then, and Derek was being a dipshit because he still can’t figure out who he’s jealous of and why.

For all of the calmness that Stiles suddenly possessed, there was still the full grown man who’d managed to produce an honest to God toy box covered in stickers and filled with Transformers, Lego, Batman and Star Wars toys.

“Stiles? Did you just pull out a toy box?” Derek said, incredulous.

“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone have one?” There was a moment of silence as Stiles looked between the gathered adults. Jackson was shaking his head rather vigorously and looked like he was holding in a laugh.

“Parents, babysitters, _kids_ , and people who are baby crazy.” Lydia remarked with both a wicked sort of smile and a simultaneously bored expression. It was an interesting mix.

“I am not baby crazy!” Stiles screeched. “Why does everyone keep _saying_ that? I just like to be prepared, in the eventuality that I, y’know, have a kid, and Scott!”

“Don’t you already have Scott?” Jackson piped up.

“No, well, yeah, but I mean Scott is having a kid, so my having a toy box totally makes sense!” Stiles pouted. Derek had seen the pout before, but his clearly lacking memory can’t really do Stiles’ lips justive. God what he wouldn’t give to see them wrapped…around nothing, because that was stupid and God he was being stupid and what was wrong with his brain today?

“Stiles, you’ve had the thing for years. Allison has been pregnant for months. We _will_ discuss this again later.” Lydia added before going back to her conversation with Melissa.

“Alright then.” Derek said, backing off to watch events unfold.

Derek witnessed Stiles remove things from the toy box, as if it was perfectly normal for a 25 year old to keep something like that. Gerry looked pleased to see that Stiles was playing Batman, complete with mask and utility belt. Derek didn’t know how to react when he was told to be Commissioner Gordon but then again, John just rolled with it when he was given Alfred. Sometime after Batman had saved the bag of apples from the Joker (Derek thought that Jacksons shoe was the Joker, but whatever), Stiles had informed Gerry that the voice of Optimus Prime was also the voice of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, so _of course_ it’s manly to watch the cartoon and read the stories and whoever told him it wasn’t was crazy wrong. Because if Optimus Prime can be Eeyore, and Stiles can be Batmand, just think of all the things G-Man could be. Derek honestly had to question if Gerry had looked happier hearing that, or that his parents were getting married.

“G-Man, When we go, I need you to carry this bowl of apples, can you do that?” Stiles called out from the kitchen. Gerry immediately ran to see because of course he immediately comes running when Stiles calls, leaving John alone with Derek. John slowly turned to face Derek, leaning one hand against the counter.

“Hale, you think things are serious with this Isaac kid and my boy?”

“Wha…Why are you asking me?” Derek could feel his eyebrows working their way up his forehead.

“Why wouldn’t I? You know Stiles, you know Isaac, and you keep staring at Stiles like you wish you _were_ Isaac. So?” John looked Derek in the eye throughout that statement, voice never wavering. “It’s part of my job to read people son, so what’s the story?”

Derek sighed, ran his hand down his face, and then answered, completely honestly. He didn’t think John would appreciate a lie, and he was certain that John would know the truth from a lie in a heartbeat. “I don’t know.”

“Bull shit.” John snapped.

“Pardon?”

“I said bull. Do you think they’re serious? Like grandbabies serious?”

“No, Isaac loves kids, but he doesn’t want his own.” Derek replied, making sure Stiles didn’t overhear. “I don’t know if I should be the one talking to you about this.”

“Isaac dealt with me when Stiles was having an early morning panic attack and I appreciate that about him, but I don’t think he’s what Stiles needs..  I don’t think Stiles needs a man who will hang on his every word, or shut him up with a kiss just for the sake of ending the babbling. I think ultimately, Stiles needs someone who will challenge him, who will help him focus by being an anchor. He needs someone to take on the world with him, someone who’ll stand by his side, push him forward, and know when to hold him back, all at the same time.”

Derek was beyond uncomfortable with this line of conversation, but he knew he’d never get out of answering. Not unscathed, at least. “Honestly, I think that Isaac and Stiles are good for each other right now, but I don’t think it’ll be long term.” Derek swallowed and took a breath, looking John in the eye with a serious stare. “Isaac once told me that he loved loving people.  That’s great because he’s good at it, he makes you _feel_ loved, but then, it also means he’ll love someone else when the fancy strikes him. He won’t break his heart, but I don’t think he’ll be a dad, either.” Derek was shocked at the number of words that just poured out of him.  He hated admitting that he even thought about Isaac…and Stiles…that much.

“Fair enough. You, then, are you ever going to be a dad?” John wasn’t even looking at Derek; he was walking away, maybe to get more coffee, maybe just to leave Derek to think. Whatever John’s plan, it was foiled by a running Gerry.

“DEREK! D! Der! Best cousin EVER!” Gerry exclaimed while tossing his arms around Derek’s thighs. “Can I ride to Mister Scott’s house with Mister Stiles? He said I could, that I could ride in the Jeep in the back but that you had to say it was okay and you had to install my booster.” Derek looked down at Gerry, at the puppy eyes, at the hopeful smile. He looked up beyond Gerry to see Stiles, giving him the same puppy eyes, the same hopeful smile.

“Derek, I’ll drive both of you and bring you back when we’re done, if that’s what it takes! Please? I’m going to explain to him how to make pie crusts and mashed potatoes and good things like that, please Der? Please D? Best ball player ever?” Stiles fluttered his lashes. Literally. He fluttered his eyelashes.

“Alright. I’ll move everything into the Jeep from the Camaro if you-“

“G-Man can we ride in the Camaro and you can ride in the jeep the next time we do something together, please? We can pretend we’re riding in BUMBLEBEE!” Stiles turned to Gerry with the widest, excited grin Derek had ever seen. And his nephew was a permanently over-excited five year old.

“Of course, if it’s okay with D!” Gerry turned his wide, puppy eyes back to Derek.

“Yeah, yeah, just load what you need up and we’ll go.”

“Thank you.” Stiles said, before reaching over and kissing him on the cheek.

“Thank you!” Gerry pulled at the leg of his jeans until Derek squatted down, and then repeated Stiles move, leaving Derek with a damp spot on each cheek and that tiny little clench in his heart again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is late. My Beta-pack, the awesome Katieepretzel and Elysa are not to blame, it's all on me. Work, the 'real world' and my health have taken a toll on my writing. I am working 7 days a week right now, and training on a new project at work. Writing suffered because of it, and I apologize.  
> I hope you enjoy it, I hope it was worth the wait.

_Have I mentioned that this is the longest Thanksgiving ever, let alone in 2010?_

“So, Bumblebee’s a Camaro?” Gerry asked, squirming quietly in his booster seat.

“Yes, G-Man, Bumblebee is a Camaro, but he didn’t used to be.” Stiles smiled while turning around in his seat to face the boy. “He used to be a-“

“Beetle, he was a VW Bug, back when we were kids.” Derek interrupted.

“Yep, G-Man, he was. Did you know that your cousin was a kid once? He wasn’t always a fully grown sour wolfy!” Stiles snorted out while giggling. He completely ignored the glare Derek sent his way, instead making a fake concerned face and saying “Wait, you _were_ a kid once, right?”

“Poppa said that D was born grumpy!” Gerry giggled, totally throwing Derek under the bus. Stiles had to laugh with him.

He was keeping this small person. Seriously.  Derek’s uncle would never get Gerry back. Never. Well, he supposed that if Peter asked nicely, or maybe if Derek did that growly thing, he’d give him back. Oh, and they could probably have him back when he was filming or doing a stand-up tour. Which was all the time.  Crap. When was he ever going to find the time to spend with his own kids, when he had them…if he had them?

“Stiles, did you hear me?” Derek asked, sounding annoyed to Stiles’ ears. They’d just parked at Scott and Allison’s place and Stiles was already running through a list of what he needed to do and how he’d get Gerry to help. He knew that Peter and Kate? Was that her name? Would be arriving later, and they’d want their son back.

“I doubt it… I was thinking about tasty food. G-man, you gonna help me bake some pies? Also, I need someone to go all Hulk on the potatoes, because I don’t want to trust Allison with a masher after last year.” Stiles turned to Derek and whispered in his ear, so Gerry wouldn’t hear, “I still have scars on my upper thigh! She is vicious about food when she isn’t pregnant, I can only _imagine_ how intense she’ll be today.”

The car had barely been turned off and Stiles was already moving. He hopped out, grabbed the bag of apples, and waited for Gerry to take them from him, almost with reverence. Then he handed a box of glass pie plates, a marble rolling pin, and a pie serving knife to Derek. “This is fragile, the pie plates were Mom’s, so be careful, please. I don’t trust myself to get it in the house, hell, I am amazed I got it into the car without damage.” He then loaded the rest of the groceries he’d brought into his arms and walked through the lot straight into the house.

“Stiles? Is my mom with you?” Scott yelled from the bedroom.

“Nah, I came with Der and G-Man, she, Papa, Lyd and Jay should be right behind us though.”

Stiles was startled by how quickly Scott appeared in front of him-he must have sprinted down the stairs. “You came with Der and G-Man? JAY is with Mom, Papa, and Lyd? What the hell man? You have pet names for everyone suddenly, and why are you with Derek and Gerry?”

“Whoa…chill Mister Dumb-head! Don’t get your boxers in a twist. Things happened, there’s news, Derek and an adorable boy showed up on my doorstep, things happened, pancakes were involved, maybe toys were played with, nothing too serious, so chill.” Stiles stepped around Scott, into the kitchen before calling out “Please tell Derek to bring the pie plates in here!”

Shit. Was he that different after a morning of playing with a kid, of not being tense around Derek and just relaxing at home? He knew that the panic attack was still releasing chemicals into his system and had him just slightly off-balance. He probably had maybe two hours to get things prepped before he’d crash, and then who was gonna feed everyone? Hopefully, Scott would chock it up to his having spent all morning with a kid and not have to find out about what Stiles saw. 

Granted, if Scott blamed it on the kid, then Stiles would be accused of being baby-crazy again. Hermph. As if. He just knew that he wanted a big family. It had only been him and his dad since his mom had passes, and yeah, it was a little lonely. Yes, Scott and Lydia and Mama McCall all were there, but at night, when he was scared, or sad, when it _mattered_ …he was alone. He wanted to have a bunch of kids, so they would never be alone like he was, and he wanted to love them and be a good dad with someone else, whom he could also love, who would also be a good dad. 

“Scott, dude your mom and Stiles’ dad! That is AWESOME! Too bad Stiles lost his shit, though.” Jackson said as he walked in the door. “Ouch, who smacked me, was that supposed to be a secret?”

“Stiles?” Scott asked, standing in the entryway to the kitchen.

“Scott. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just got reminded that they were datingthis morning. You know. Normal couple stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary, just caught me off guard.” Stiles tried to stop talking, tried to stop breathing so fast, so shallow. “Not like two consenting adults can’t have sex in their son’s bathroom with the door unlocked at strange hours of the morning because why would he walk into a bathroom in his own home and there is certainly no way at all they would have heard him and stopped, no , no they couldn’t give him that courtesy at all!”

“Mister Stiles? Are you okay? You look kinda purple.” Gerry piped up from the vicinity of Scott’s hips. Stiles looked up to see Derek behind Gerry, and of course, everyone else crowded behind them, including two people he’d never met. Fucking great.

“Okay, here’s the deal, Stiles had an early morning panic attack, after having an early morning bout of not being able to focus on anything. Stiles is fine now. The things that Stiles saw can never be unseen, NEVER! You got that Papa, NEVER!” Stiles was managing not to shout, somehow, but he couldn’t stop speaking in the third person. “Stiles is going to be in the kitchen, making pies, and preparing mashed potatoes. G-Man, you can help. Derek has Mom’s pie-plates, so someone needs to let him in. In other news, Stiles is going to stop talking now.” Stiles stopped abruptly and smacked his hands over his mouth.

Thankfully, Gerry was laughing hysterically and still clutching his bag of apples. Everyone moved so Derek could bring in the breakables he was holding, and then they lined up in the entry way.

“Hi! I’m Peter, this is Kate. If you’re always like this, I can definitely see the appeal!” Peter called from the back, muffling his laugh in Kate’s neck.

“Stiles Stilinski, nice to meet you sir, if your son ever goes missing, check at my house.” Stiles mumbled from behind his hands.

“Why would Jay be at your house?” Peter asked.

“No Poppa!” Gerry giggled. “He meant me…right Mister Stiles? You meant me?” Stiles looked at Gerry and just smiled, lowering his hands from his face to put them on Gerry’s shoulders.

“Yes, little G-Man, I meant you. Jay was only at my house this morning because he followed Miss Lydia like a puppy, and she asked to keep him.”

“Mister Stiles, what did you mean by not being able to not see something?” Gerry asked, causing a fit of laughter to ripple through the adults.

“Uh…well, some things are special, and once you see them, you cannot erase them from your brain, and my Papa explained that to me this morning.” Stiles blushed and stammered out, causing the laughter to increase.

“Is that why I never forget what Derek, Jay, Erika or momma and dad look like? Are they those kinds of special things?” Gerry looked up with wide, innocent eyes.

“Uh,yeah…I guess it’s kind of like that.” Stiles reached back and scratched the nape of his neck.

“And a panic attack? What’s that, Mister Stiles?” Gerry continued on.

“It’s…”

“Gerry, I bet there will be time to talk after we make the pies, right Stiles?” Derek interrupted.

“Totally! I need G-Man to peel these apples for me. Peter, can he use a veggie peeler?” Stiles mimed using the hand held peeler as he spoke, to make sure Peter understood what he was asking. “If so we can set him up in the dining room with a bowl for the peeled apples, and the adults can talk in here. Yeah?”

Gerry immediately started bouncing and nodding, looking back and forth between Stiles and Peter.

“Yeah, I’m good with it if Kate is.” Peter said, and Kate nodded. Gerry ran into the dining room, Stiles followed him with the supplies he’d need and then walked back into the kitchen.  Once there, he carefully laid out the dishes Derek brought in, and once he was satisfied they were all in one piece, started getting ready to wash and peel potatoes. Stiles was startled out of his preparations when Kate cleared her throat.

“Hi! I’m Kate, little Gerald’s mom. Thank you for having him over this morning.”

“Kate, yeah, sorry about that, just a little preoccupied right now. I’m Stiles, as you know, and it was no problem, I wouldn’t want him to EVER see what I saw this morning. Lined up with you are my dad, Sheriff Stilinski, and his girlfriend, Scott’s mom, Melissa.  They are really nice, and like to have sex in my guest bathroom.”  Stiles blurted out.  He watched as Derek literally slapped himself in the face, and Scott turned beet red.

“So, yeah, excellent kid you and Peter have, he’s adorable, and funny, and apparently loves pancakes.” Stiles kept on like he never mentioned this morning. “G-Man, can you holler and let me know how you’re doing?” Stiles spoke a little louder.

“I did two whole ones so far! Hey, why is Mister Dumb-head all red? Everyone keeps turning colors today!”

“Gerald, I am _not_ a dumb-head, my name is Scott, not Dumb-head.” Scott seethed.

“Hey, sorry, I was in the bathroom, what did I miss?” Allison breezed around everyone into the kitchen, walked up to Stiles and kissed him on the cheek.

“Al, you missed a lot.” Derek stated monotonously.

“Stiles saw my mom and Papa having sex this morning and didn’t tell me!” Scott whined.

“Why would I tell you, you’d just over react like you’re doing now!” Stiles snapped.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell him, but you called us.” Jackson added.

“I called Miss Lydia!” Stiles shouted, then realized what he’d said. “I called Lydia,” he said softer. “You answered her phone, and then came with her to my house. I didn’t call Scott because he has other things to deal with.”

“Okay, so Stiles had a bad morning, Jackson was at Lydia’s, good on you, by the way, and where does the kid come in? I thought everyone knew not to leave Stiles with kids!” Allison cackled while trying to grab the potatoes  that Stiles was working with. “Stiles, you know that you can’t keep him, right babe? You’re gonna  have to give him back.”

“Should I be concerned about this?” Peter asked, ignoring everyone else’s snickers.

“No, the Stilinski men just get a little baby-crazy every now and then.” Lydia offered, to be met by both Stiles and John announcing “Not crazy!”

“I don’t know,” Melissa spoke up, “I’m not all that old, had Scott young, I could maybe handle a baby.”

“Mom! You can’t just go around saying things like that. Stiles, tell my mom she can’t just say things like that to your dad!” Scott whined.

“Melissa, you can’t go around saying things like that to Dad, you just can’t. Remember what you told me, well, you told Scott? Don’t get a girl pregnant if it isn’t serious; don’t get a girl pregnant if you aren’t in it for the long haul? You told him that for a reason, remember?”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Hey, John, wanna get hitched?” Scott downright choked and Stiles almost peeled his thumb instead of the potatoes in front of him.

Gerry suddenly _ran_ into the kitchen. “Mister Stiles, Mister Dumb-head, your parents are gonna get married just like mine are! Isn’t that AWESOME? I get to dress up for the wedding, will you get to dress up for the wedding, I bet you would look like James Bond in a tuxedo Mister Stiles!”

Stiles was aware of Peter and Kate ushering Gerry out of the room. He was aware of Lydia, Jackson and Allison seeing to Scott, and his dad and Melissa just grinning at each other in the chaos. He was finding it hard to breathe, the air was getting thicker, and sweat started to pool on his forehead. Standing was becoming an issue, and it appeared the floor had been replaced with a water bed, and who was flicking the lights? Suddenly, there was a pair of strong arms around him, a deep voice in his ear telling him it was going to be all right. His back was pressed against something warm and firm, something that was slowly rising and falling. He matched his breathing to it. He concentrated on that one arm was around his waist and the other around his chest. There was a hand resting over his heart. He slowed his breathing some more. He could hear the deep rumbling as it softly repeated, “It’s alright, I have you, in two three four, out two three for five six seven, I have you, it’s just fine” on a constant loop.

Stiles took a deep shuddering breath as he realized that Derek Hale, the sour, grumbling lone wolf, the man who shouldn’t care about him at all, had just talked him down from the edge of a panic attack. His second of the day, moreover. Stiles reached a shaking hand up and tapped on the hand Derek had over his still-racing heart. When Derek loosened his grip, Stiles turned in his arms, rested his head on his shoulder, and mumbled a “thanks” into Derek’s henley. He noticed that the room was unnaturally quiet and all the noise had gone away. There was a tap on his shoulder. Tilting his head, he saw Lydia holding out her phone, an awkward expression on her face.

“It’s Isaac, I thought he could help. Should I tell him he wasn’t needed?”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is, the longest chapter I have written of this to date.  
> My beta pack- I love them so, without them I would be lost  
> Everyone who loves this story, I cannot even begin to express just how much you mean to me  
> just an FYI, standup_stiles and howlinhale will both be talking soon

_Black Friday, 2010 (Technically not Thanksgiving anymore, Mwahahahahaha)_

Derek was exhausted.  He carefully brought his wrist up to look at his watch, then cringed when he realized that it was holy shit, 2am, and in less than three hours the house would be all active again as people woke to do their Black Friday shopping. Ordering his thoughts, he attempted to figure out how to extricate himself from the pile of limbs and blankets he was wrapped in, so that he could get up and go to the bathroom. The key was going to be not waking the person wrapped around his legs, the person drooling on his shoulder, and the person acting like his blanket.

Derek startled just a little when he realized that it was Scott on his legs, Gerry on his shoulder, and Stiles as the human blanket. He was even more startled to realize that with the exception of Scott, it wasn’t awkward. Gerry had one tiny fist wrapped in the fabric of Derek’s shirt, and he had nestled it against his shirt. Derek ran his hand over the boys back and let himself imagine, for a brief moment, what it would be like to have a baby sleeping in his shoulder, instead of a five year old. Gerry sleeping on him wasn’t anything new, but it only happened when Gerry had completely tired himself out.

Stiles sleeping on him was most definitely new. Derek’s first inclination was to feel guilty. Stiles was warm, and amazingly still, and comfortable….he felt like home. Derek was relatively certain that this somehow fell outside of normal friend behavior, and he wasn’t even entirely certain that he and Stiles were friends. Yeah, they bonded over his cousin, and he stepped up when Stiles was having a panic attack, but he probably shouldn’t be snuggling with him.

Scott, well, Derek knew from experience that Scott could and would sleep anywhere, regardless of propriety or location. Derek once watched Scott fall asleep while making a sandwich. Seriously, Scott spread mayo on the bread, turned to grab the meat off the counter, and just lay his head down and drift off. Derek decided that the mature and responsible thing to do was to balance the sandwich fixings on Scott’s head, and then marveled at him sleeping with the equivalent of a ham and cheese in his hair.

Ever so slowly and carefully, Derek slid to dislodge Gerry from his shoulder without disturbing the kid. Then he shifted his legs back and forth a little bit until Scott’s head fell to the floor with a thump. Finally, he was able to gather Stiles the Human Blanket into his arms, stand while still holding the man, and deposit him on the couch.

 “Dude, you lifted him to the couch, but you bounced my head off the floor?” Scott groggily asked from his now incredibly undignified position on the floor.

“Shhhhhhh! I don’t want to wake Gerry. He’s too young to be subjected to Al and Lyd on Black Friday, and we’re tossing Kate, Erica, and possibly your mom into the mix. Do you really want him to deal with that? The two of them almost scarred me for life the first time; imagine what they’d do to a five year old!” Derek whispered harshly, dragging a blanket over Stiles and then tossing a pillow at Stiles feet. “Now, can you help me get Gerry up here? And _dude_ , why were you sleeping on my legs?”

“Al decided after you guys crashed on the floor that Lyd and Erica got to sleep in bed with her. She said I could crash with Jackson.” Scott pouted, while gathering Gerry’s blanket so Derek could lift him. “I came out here to take the floor, figuring it would be better than a bed with freaking _Jackson_ , and that Stiles would have woke up and gotten on the couch, but you and Stiles and the G-Man were all curled up together. What’s up with that?”

“Scott. If we were on the floor, why didn’t you take the couch?” Derek said, eyebrows pointed down and mouth pulled to the side in a puzzled look. He laid Gerry with his head on the pillow, his body along Stiles legs.

“Well, I figured if Stiles and the kid both thought you were comfortable, I wanted to try it out myself.”

Derek gave Scott the most incredulous look he could muster.

“Fine! I couldn’t get to the couch! You guys take up a lot of floor space,” Scott grumbled, “Just seemed easier to join the people-pile. Now, stop avoiding, what’s up with that?” Scott sat up, resting his back against the legs of the couch. He looked almost protective of Stiles. After a moment, Scott stood and immediately lifted Gerry,turned the boy so that his head was on Stiles’ stomach, and their legs were aligned. After adjusting the blanket, Scott sat again, with the protective look on his face.

“Why did you move Gerry?”

“It’s obvious you never slept with Stiles before.” Scott snorted. “He’s all over when he sleeps if there isn’t something to anchor him to the bed. If you try to sleep headsies-footsies with him, you’ll wake up black and blue.”

“Headsies-footsies?” Derek couldn’t help the eyeroll.

“Yeah, you know, it’s when you sleep hea-“

“I know what it is, I just haven’t heard an adult use that expression since…ever.”

“So…the Derek, Stiles, Gerry parade of cuddle times?” Scott smirked.

                                                                                                &^&

Derek sighed, trying to figure out how much of the day to rehash. Isaac’s call was what made Derek realize he was cuddling Stiles in the kitchen, bringing him down from a panic attack. Stiles had taken the phone and spoken quietly, but he’d never let go of Derek. Derek would swear that Stiles was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while talking on the phone. Stiles finally let go of Derek to shove the phone in his face, just to curl back up against him.

“Hey Derek, thanks for taking care of our boy.” Isaac had said, not giving Derek a chance to respond. “Boyd and I will be home sometime Friday, Mom and Dad said to tell y’all ‘hi’ for them. Also, Danny’s coming to visit for a while, so expect him to want to say hi. Okay, gotta go, keep taking care of him for me!” Then Isaac abruptly disconnected. When Derek had taken the phone down from his ear, Stiles took it from him and walked it back to Lydia like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t just been snuggled up against one another. Like there hadn’t been hair playing and heartbeat listening and shared breathing.

After that, well, there’s been two hours of almost normal, whatever that was. Kate and Melissa had talked wedding planning while John and Peter talked about, well, Derek wasn’t really sure, he just knew it involved a lot of laughter and pointed looks at himself and Stiles. Lydia and Allison discussed a shopping plan, and he and Jackson supervised Gerry ‘helping’ Stiles in the kitchen. Once Stiles had announced his satisfaction with the pies and the potatoes, Allison had kicked him out of the room so that she could finish ‘seeing to her bird, and all the important sides’.

Then Erica had arrived, and announced that she’d got the final decree the day before, she was officially divorced from Matt. She was Erica Hale again. Derek couldn’t help the smile at seeing the vibrant, _happy_ cousin he remembered having, and not the shell of a woman she had become over the year. Peter had looked like he’d been about to cry out of relief, and Kate took Erica off to whisper about something.

Peter called Jackson, John, and Derek over, asking Stiles to play with Gerry for a bit. Peter had shared with them that he was worried Matt would try something stupid, and that he wanted extra eyes being kept on Erica. They’d all agreed, because Matt was a terrifying psychopath, and John and Peter went to talk about home security, cop to computer tech. From what Derek could tell. They were figuring out where the lines between legal and effective fell when it came to home monitoring.

While they’d been debating 24/7 WiFi security cameras, Derek and Jackson had discussed the best way to keep tabs on Erica without her catching on. Stiles had walked past and fake coughed “Boyd”, then a few minutes later managed to walk past again and yawn “all up in that”, the latter causing Jackson to swat at Stiles. Of course, Jackson swatting at Stiles led to Gerry attempting to tackle Jackson, which may or may not have led to everyone minus Allison having a giant tickle fight/wrestling match in the living room.

Dinner itself had been a success, from what Derek could tell. When they’d done the traditional “What I’m thankful for,” Scott had said he was thankful for his family, both new and old, pulling tears from both Stiles and Allison. Stiles had said he was thankful that his brother by bond was going to be his brother by marriage, and Melissa had teared up. Lydia had expressed thanks that she wasn’t actually related to _anyone_ at the table, earning laughs from everyone.

Gerry, of course, was thankful he’d gotten to meet “the most awesomest person ever,” and had grinned widely at Stiles the entire time he spoke. Peter had been thankful for Kate, John for Melissa, and so on. Derek mumbled something about friends and family, hoping no one was paying too much attention by the time they’d gotten around to him.

When the green beans with almond slices were making their second trip around the table, Gerry was starting to crash from the post dessert sugar high, and Stiles was amazingly just then starting to crash from his two panic attacks, lack of sleep, and working like a dog (or a culinary-inclined rat perhaps…it was possible Derek had spent too much time with children and adults that acted like children) all day.

Right when Derek was getting ready to suggest taking Stiles and Gerry home, Peter and Kate had asked if someone would keep Gerry for the night, so they could keep celebrating. John and Melissa had also spoken up to ask if Stiles would maybe mind staying with Scott and Allison, as _they_ would be celebrating and wanted no more mishaps. Derek had been _this_ close to making a snarky comment about people not knowing the purpose of hotels, before Scott and Allison had interjected and graciously offered crash space for everyone not celebrating impending nuptials.

Jackson had tried to argue that he and Erica had a house, and that he was Lydia’s ride. Lydia had laughingly reminded him that Black Friday was _the_ shopping day of the year, that she and Allison _always_ went together, and that Erica could join them or help watch Gerry, her choice, so of course they would all be staying over.  Everyone in the room (perhaps the country, maybe even the _world_ ) knew that Lydia’s word was pretty much law and wisely, no one argued.

Peter and Kate had been the first to leave, after grabbing a conveniently packed and not at all suspicious overnight bag for Gerry from their car. Melissa and John left next, but only after Melissa handed Derek three prescription bottles, each with Stiles’ name on it. She’d explained one was Adderall, one was Amytal for his anxiety, and the other was Fioricet, for his migraines.

Derek double checked that the white round one was the migraine and the blue caplet was the anxiety, earning him appreciative smiles form Lydia and John, and an ‘oh, dear, I see’ from Melissa, whatever that meant. He just wanted to make sure that if he had the meds, not Lydia, he didn’t poison Stiles or anything, it’s not like he _cared_.

After that, well, Derek remembered Stiles and Gerry insisting he watch Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen with them, because when the third one came out, Stiles was taking Gerry as his date? Something like that. They’d sat themselves on the floor, Gerry in his lap, facing the television, and Stiles next to him, playing with Gerry’s hair. It seemed so comfortable and familiar, even though it was totally new. Derek always thought that he would never have this, never honestly want this. Hell, he didn’t even know what ‘this’ was, really. Just him, his cousin, and Stiles chilling, nothing but three buds watching a movie, right?

Jackson had walked through and claimed the guest room, as if claiming a newly discovered territory for France. Scott and Allison had traipsed through on the way to their own room. Derek had overheard mumblings of “our own celebration” and very quickly turned back to focus on the machines and explosions and-oh god, was that an alien? Erica and Lydia had rested on the couch behind them for a while, not watching the movie at all, just whispering furiously to each other. At some point, Gerry had fallen asleep.

“Der, do you want me to move him?” Stiles asked.

“Nah, I’ll move him when the movie is over. He and I can take the floor, do you want the couch?” How the hell is he so comfortable with Stiles calling him Der? Then again, how did he get so comfortable with Stiles he helped him with his earlier attack?

“I can do the floor, or even the recliner, really.” Stiles replied.

Something had thumped Derek in the back of the head. He’d turned to glare but softened when he saw the blanket in Erica’s hands.

“Cover the kid up.” Erica whispered. “And I am taking the couch, asshat!” This sent Lydia into a fit of giggles, prompting Stiles to turn and glare.

“Do not wake the G-man! He had a long day!” Stiles whispered loudly. Derek assumed Stiles was trying to sound harsh, but the yawn that happened while he was scolding Lydia ruined any harshness to his voice. Stiles had grabbed the blanket from Derek, unfolding it, and laying it carefully over Gerry. He then tipped his head on Derek’s shoulder, just a little.

“You comfy?” Derek asked Stiles, feeling a nod in return. Stiles reached over him to tuck the blanket around Gerry. Derek vaguely recalled that Stiles never brought his arm back, leaving it draped loosely over Gerry, causing Stiles to tuck into Derek’s side. Derek also remembered wrapping his arm around Stiles a little, just for the physical comfort. Couldn’t have his arm fall asleep.  It had to have been sometime after that when he and Stiles had both fallen asleep. Derek certainly didn’t remember lying down, and someone must have covered them all with blankets and put down pillows under his head.

                                                                                &^&

“I think we passed out watching Transformers.”

“Wha?” Scott mumbled.

“Transformers, we fell asleep near the end of it. Had to be.” Derek said.

“How are you still awake? You went all dreamy faced about ten minutes ago. I thought you fell back asleep while sitting up, with your eyes open. You’ve done that before you know.” Scott reminded him. “Remember college? You did that shit all the time. I came home from my first date with Allison, spent an hour telling you about it, got mad that you had nothing to say, then you started snoring.” Derek laughed at that.

“So, the shopping, what will we be doing while the women are away?” Derek asked.

“Napping, eating leftover pie, planning Christmas. Stiles wants this huge-ass tree every year and it’s usually my job to talk him down.” Scott laughed. “Why they think I can, let alone WOULD talk him down from that is beyond me. The baby thing? That I never got until now, but Christmas, I can get behind that.”

“I can handle that.” Derek nodded and let out a little yawn. “Since Stiles and Gerry are on the couch, you want the recliner?” he asked.

“You can take it, I don’t really mind. I mean, it is my favorite spot to sit, but you’ve been on the floor with people all over you.”

Derek looked at the recliner, the comfy, cushioned recliner. He looked at the sofa and the nightmares he used to have after a panic attack came to mind. He remembered the feeling of waking up alone, how it’d made him feel deserted and even more terrified. Yeah, Gerry was now wrapped around Stiles’ waist like some sort of rabid Koala, but he was just a kid, and sometimes, you needed something more to fight the monsters away.

“I’m already down here, and I’ve got the blankets and pillow right how I want them. Go ahead and take your chair, Scott.” Before Derek had even finished speaking, Scott was in the chair.

A thought occurred to him. “Scott, do you…you know, mind not telling anyone about this? I don’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

“What’s there to tell, Der? You slept on the floor, Stiles got to snuggle a kid with hero worship, and I took the chair. Sounds just fine to me.”

“Thanks, man.” Derek smiled.

“No problem Bro, now shut up, I wanna sleep before the heathens awake to take over every shopping establishment in a fifty mile radius.”

“One of those heathens is your wife and mother of your child, you know.” Derek said, then gently laughed, “fifty mile? They made you drive them to San Diego that one year, for the special cookie cutters? One hundred and twenty miles.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not scared of them too, Der. Don’t you remember the time you went with them because you needed a new laptop?” Scott mumbled sleepily.

Derek shuddered at the memory but didn’t respond. He settled down into his nest of blankets and pillows, his thoughts lost somewhere amongst fantasies of enormous Christmas trees, children who can't sit still, and pancakes with whipped butter. With one last look at the couch, he fell asleep, a warm feeling in his heart and the ends of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Davis is that gift that Stiles cannot even get thru the doorway, just sayin'...  
> My beta-pack, Katieepretzel, Esyla, I love you both.  
> My new readers, welcome, my old readers, thanks so much for sticking around.  
> So, a box of puppies, and transitions, and a warning that after this chapter, there is gonna be some shaking up, some things that are not all happy and boxes of puppies.  
> Also, Danny is intro'd here, and y'all may not like where I take him- fair warning

_Black Friday, 2010_

Stiles woke to gasps, squeals, and clapping. What the everloving fuck? Opening just one eye, he saw Gerry sleeping on him, his left arm holding the child to him. His right arm was hanging off the couch, hand resting on something warm…hairy…..and Jesus, he had his fingers al tangled up in Derek’s hair.

Looking up, he saw Scott, Isaac, and a man he’d never met before all looking into a large cardboard box. It became really obvious to Stiles that the gasping, squealing _and_ clapping were all coming from Scott, with only occasional giggles coming from Isaac’s direction.

Removing his hand from the top of Derek’s head, and keeping a tight hold on Gerry, Stiles rubbed his eyes and scooched up some. “What’s in the box?”

“Puppies, Stiles! There are four puppies in this box! Stiles, it is a box of puppies, an honest to god box of PUPPIES!” Scott was back to shrieking. Oh good then, the women must have left already because there’s no way Lydia (or Allison, or _Erica_ for that matter) would allow such decibels this early in the freaking mornings.

Apparently, Isaac and the other dude had a box of puppies. Isaac looked over to Stiles and smiled, but otherwise stayed where he was.

“Cool. So, uh, who’s the dude holding the puppies?” Stiles asked and hoped he didn’t sound upset. There was no reason to be pissed that his boyfriend had shown up with a surprise man, none at all. Honestly, there wasn’t. Stiles knew that he’d spent all evening having fun, not pining away. He also realized that he was on the couch, with G-Man, he just… has no clue how he got there.

“Oh, Stiles, this is Danny, a long-time friend. Danny, this would be Stiles, sleeping on him would be Gerry, and you know Derek.” Danny looked at Stiles and winked. No nod, no wave, an honest to god wink. Well then. Not quite sure how he feels about _that._

“Nice to meet you. As soon as I get the G-Man off of me, I’ll come shake your hand or something.” Stiles slowly sat up the rest of the way, trying to keep Gerry as still as he could. “What time is it?” He asked, trying to figure out if he could wake the boy or not.

“Too early for you to be this loud!” Stiles heard Derek growl from the floor. “Now get back in…the floor? I’m on the…crap, uh, morning Stiles.” Stiles would swear he saw Derek blush before he sat up and stretched. And really, Stiles had the words to tease him on the tip of his tongue and everything, but then there was all that flesh and abs and the sharp cut of hips over the waistband of jeans that had slipped down. He couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward a bit, just to look closer, not to lick or nibble or suck. Wait what? Where the hell had that come from?

“You need me to take Gerry?” Derek smirked.

“Wha? Yeah… yeah, take the kid, I need to…Isaac, I need to hug Isaac. Also, they have a box of puppies.” Stiles said as he shrunk back on himself as much as possible to minimize contact with Derek as the ball player scooped Gerry off of his lap. No need for the detection of any spontaneous, completely innocent and _totally_ morning-induced erections. Stiles immediately sprung up off the couch and stumbled across the room to wrap octopus-likearound Isaac. “Hey! I missed you, how’s the family and who’s your friend Danny?”

“Well, hello to you too!” Isaac said, and planted a kiss on Stiles neck. “Danny’s an old family friend. He’s looking for work right now, told him he should come and visit, see if anyone in LA needs a dog trainer.” Stiles felt Isaac pull back. “The puppies belonged to a client back east. She decided that she couldn’t handle a bunch of Malamutes on top of her pair.”

Stiles stepped away from Isaac and looked in the box. The noise that left his mouth was more Pterodactyl than human in its tone and volume. There, on a blanket, were four wriggly, squirmy, cuddly puppies. Scott turned and looked at him, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head while mouthing what looked like ‘I know!’

“Why’s everyone being all loud?” Stiles turned, to see a very sleepy Gerry being held by a very amused looking Derek.

“G-Man, we’re being loud because Mister Danny, who is Mister Isaac’s friend, brought over a box full of puppies!” Stiles said. He didn’t squeal, and his earlier shrieking was totally masculine. Honest.

“Will Mister Isaac and Mister Danny let me see their puppies?” Gerry asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his tiny fists.

“Why don’t I take them out and show them to you, so that Mister Isaac and Mister Stiles have a chance to talk. Would that be okay?” Danny asked.  Stiles watched Gerry look at the box, then at the crowd in the room.

“Where are Miss Lydia and Miss Allison? Is Erica with them?” Gerry yawned, still not letting Derek put him down, even as he looked longingly at the puppy box.

“Miss Lydia went with Al to go shopping, they took our moms with them.” Scott replied. “Erica is in the room….napping…with Mister Boyd.”

“Boyd is here?” Gerry screeched, then launched himself out of Derek’s arms, and tried to run to the stairs.

“Whoa there, G-Man!” Stiles laughed while he caught Gerry around the waist and flung him over his shoulder. “I believe that Mister Dumb-Head said they were napping, not that awesome little boys should dive bomb them. Let’s get the puppies set up, maybe with a ball or a bone or two, and after I’ll get _Mister_ Boyd and your sister for you, okay?” As soon as Stiles released Gerry, he ran right over to Danny and Scott.

As much as Stiles, wanted to see the pups, he needed to talk to Isaac more. He grabbed his boyfriend by the hand and dragged him to the opposite side of the room. Isaac grabbed Derek, which struck Stiles as odd, but whatever.

“So, I want to thank you for taking care of him.” Isaac said to Derek. “And you,” he said after facing Stiles, “You should have called me.”

“You could have told me you were bringing a _friend_ , “Stiles retorted hotly. “I missed you. I didn’t call because you were with your family. Everyone took care of me, alright, not that I _need_ taking care of.”

“Wait, you never told Stiles you were bringing Danny home with you? That didn’t seem like something you should have told him? That would be like me not telling someone that I was bringing you home to stay with me!” Derek growled and shifted himself closer to Stiles.

“That’s not even a metaphor!” Stiles said indignantly, already feeling trapped between the two of them.

“It’s different and you know it, Derek. Stiles, I didn’t say anything because you had enough to deal with.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Stiles said. “Isaac, you don’t have to explain anything right now. Later, I’ll have a shit ton of questions, but they can wait. Derek, you aren’t supposed to fight my battles. I just…let’s go look at puppies.”  Stiles turned on his heels, not waiting for a reply or response from either of them.

Crossing the room to the blanket where Danny had set the puppies, he couldn’t help but smile. There was so much laughter and happiness on a concentrated area you could feel it.

“Stiles, I think you should keep one!” Gerry held a small fluffball up to Stiles.

“Ah, G-Man, I would love to, but who would take care of it when I’m gone?” Stiles asked, taking the puppy and cuddling it under his chin.

“I could?” Gerry asked.

“No, little man, you live too far away, plus you have school.” Stiles sighed, but he held the pup up to rub noses with it.

“Derek could! He loves dogs, and he lives super close to you! Right Derek? If Stiles wanted a dog you could help, and I know you want a dog, they could be doggy friends, and it would be the BEST EVER!” Gerry was jumping by the time he finished. Scott, Isaac and Danny were all staring slack-jawed at Gerry, and Derek was looking down at the puppy tugging on the hem of his jeans.

“But, Derek has baseball, and-“Stiles started, only to be interrupted.

“Actually, if I _were_ to get a puppy,” Derek looked pointedly at Gerry, “I have people who could take care of it while I was gone. I suppose that I could put them in contact with you. It would be good for them to have a little pack, so my helping out while you’re off doing whatever it is you do...yeah, I could do it.” Derek ran his hand down his face, and bent to pick up the pup now using his jeans as a chew toy.

Stiles stood there, pup under his chin, Gerry rolling on the floor, and watched as Derek scooped up a fluff ball, stared at it for a moment, _growled_ at it, and then start to pet it gently. He watched, thought about his puppy having a pack, having a _friend,_ not being alone. Thought about him and Derek having puppies together. Well, not together, but they would grow up together, go for walks and to the dog park together. It made sense that the dogs would need to socialize so that when Stiles was out of town, they wouldn’t be strangers. Therefore it was perfectly reasonable to think about walking the dogs together, maybe stopping for coffee, the pups as older dogs, playing with small children…

“Danny, I’d love to keep this one, if I may?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, yeah sure. She really seems to like you.” Danny said. “So, sorry if my being here is an issue?” Stiles couldn’t tell if Danny was apologizing or asking.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s not a problem, right?” Stiles replied.

“Good. Yeah, I just want to get set up out here, be closer to friends, spend more time with Isaac. I’m sure you understand.”

“The wanting to spend more time with Isaac? I get that, I mean, even when he’s at my place for three, four nights in a row I still just want more of him.” Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bad at the quick flash of hurt in Danny’s eyes.

He had just met the man, and couldn’t put into words why he was so upset by him. Maybe it was Derek’s reaction. Maybe it was how Danny seemed hyper aware of Isaac at all times. Maybe it was the bag of puppy treats he kept in one pocket of his jacket and the stupid bag of chips he kept in the other, and kept offering everyone.

Stiles didn’t know, but he was damned sure he was going to figure it out. He wasn’t the sheriff’s kid for fucking nothing.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, terribly, and very sorry for the week of no posts. The real world was less than stellar to me, and I kept doubting what I was writing.   
> I only ran this past one of the beta-pack, as the style of this particular chapter was better suited for katieepretzel, my Stiles, than for Elysa, my Widget. Earlier chaps were more heavily inspired by Elysa, and so on.  
> It is short, and I know some of y'all will be disappointed, because c'mon! A short chapter after a week off?!?! But it was really important for me to have it the way it was.  
> I hope you like it.

_December, 2010_

Derek walked in his front door, whistled, and made his way into the kitchen to set his armful of bags on the counter. He took a quick moment to put the milk away, and then returned to the door, picking up a piece of leather from a hook. Sitting there- as patiently as a small puppy could- was Sasha, waiting for her walk.

“Come on then, we have a busy day, and I’m already not happy.” Derek said, putting on Sasha’s walking harness. “Just a small walk for now, and I’ll get you out to play later, maybe Fred can come out with you.” He opened the door and led the excited puppy out to the steps. “Seriously, Sasha, what sort of name is Fred for a dog? Fred. Hermph, poor thing will never be taken seriously, will he girl?” Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest thing, he thought, to be talking to his dog, but right now it’s who he had.

After Thanksgiving, Peter and Kate had returned back home, only to call to be put in touch with Derek’s realtor. They decided they were indeed going to move down, and they weren’t waiting for the summer. God, Derek had been thrilled he’d be seeing Gerry regularly, finally. It also meant that they were incredibly busy, so not available to listen to him rant about proper dog names.

Scott and Allison were very busy with planning, as apparently the nursery _had_ to be finished before the second trimester ended. Derek had no clue where that information came from, but he suspected Lydia played a hand in it. The plus side to the nursery planning is that it kept Scott from flipping his shit about John and Melissa moving in together. Apparently getting married was fine, but “shacking up” just wasn’t.

Lydia, when not going gaga over Allison’s growing baby-belly, is inseparable from Jackson. How Jackson deals with her all the time is beyond anyone, but whatever floats his boat. Admittedly, it was hilarious that Jackson wasn’t a fan of Sasha or Fred, especially because he was way better trained than either of them. If Lydia said ‘heel’ Jackson was at her side, yapping his assent.

Then there was Erica and Boyd -Derek knew, contrary to appearances, that  they were taking things slow. They were sleeping together, but that was it. Sleep. Next to each other. Erica told him that she’d slept for shit after she left Matt, probably from sleeping as little as possible while _with_ Matt. Boyd made her feel safe; let her feel secure enough to sleep. It certainly explained why she seemed to have a Monster vending machine in her purse she was constantly attempting to stay awake. Occasionally, the two would come over for a meal and some movies, and would crash in his spare room, just sleeping and snuggling.

He’d laughed when Erica’d asked him and Boyd if they could recommend a security company for her home. She didn’t have Jackson there all the time, and she’d just wanted to know that someone was keeping an eye on everything, she apparently had no idea that her safety was a priority for everyone. Derek had handed her off to her dad and John, and soon enough, her house was secure enough to where she and Boyd would be more comfortable there than in Derek’s spare room.

Derek was just about finished with his morning walk circuit before he let himself think about Stiles. It’s always the very last thing he lets himself dwell on, mostly because the kid pisses him off to no end sometimes. No one freaking believes him when he says that that hyperactive, calculating little shit is up to something. They all tell Derek that “he doesn’t knowwwwwwwww Stiles like we do.” They all tell Derek that “Stiles is just acting out a little in result of all the _changes,_ Derek!”

They’re right. He _doesn’t_ know Stiles like they do, which is _why_ he sees it! This isn’t Stiles ‘acting out’, and for Christ’s sake, they’re talking about an adult, not a rebellious teenager.

No. This is Stiles being calculating, being deliberate and devious. He’s marking a clear line in the fucking sand and then taunting Danny to cross it, and Derek has no idea _why_. He doesn’t think Stiles is jealous of Danny per se, just wary. Hell, Derek can (occasionally) be honest enough with himself to admit that he, personally, is somewhat guarded around the man.

But that’s not the important part. No, the important part is how god awfully confusing Stiles is to him right now. Derek is known for his friend making abilities. Not in the good way obviously, but in the way where people have to make excuses for his gruff demeanor behind his back, as if they think he doesn’t hear. He can tell himself and everyone else that he maintains a reputation as a ‘lone wolf’ because outing himself would be bad for his and Scott’s careers, or because he doesn’t have time for new people…but the reality is that he doesn’t trust many people, and he’s  bat shit fucking terrified of losing the ones he does.  In highschool he had teammates, lab partners, but no real friends. Really, he’d had his sister, his cousins, what else did he need?

After the fire…he had his cousins, still, then Lydia, Isaac and Boyd, Scott who brought in Allison, and really, that was it. Danny had come later, in an “Oh, hey, this is the guy whom I regularly get intimate with but since we aren’t serious it’s fine, right?” bu Isaac kind of way.

So yeah, that’s why he’s leery of Danny. But Stiles…Stiles was the guy he avoided. Once he’d learned that Lydia represented this comedian, this actor, Derek saw any number of completely embarrassing scenarios in his head wherein Stiles would make fun of the gay ball player. Seriously, pitching, catching, balls…Derek’s aware the jokes write themselves. He’d managed to avoid him, regardless of the small circles they shared, even at Scott and Allison’s wedding… just to meet him and have not only his world thrown upside down, but their circles pulled closer together.

Finally back at his door, with Sasha inside and her harness and lead returned to its hook, Derek tried, for the _hundredth_ time, to explain what Stiles exactly was doing that was so off, but more importantly why he, _Derek_ , even cared so freaking much in the first place.

Yeah, Stiles is everyone’s friend, and yeah, Derek is even friends with John now, and yeah, Gerry would absolutely _die_ if anything happened to Stiles, but what the hell does that mean Stiles is to Derek?

Nothing. He’s an acquaintance, a friend of some friends, the guy who is dating an ex, right? He doesn’t actually _like_ the loud, mouthy (though surprisingly insightful) punk. Derek doesn’t actually enjoy the random, nonsensical things that come out of the kid’s mouth. He doesn’t actually want to fantasize about what that mouth and tongue could do on his body, _to_ his body, just to him. No.

Stiles is maybe a friend. You help friends when they have a panic attack, right? You offer to watch a friends dog if they’re away telling (admittedly, kind of absolutely hilarious) jokes in bars and comedy clubs, or if they’re on set somewhere. Granted, you’d probably make said offer, y’know, _after_ they have the dog, not before, but _still_.

Friends even make each other meals, so having a near Pavlovian response to pancakes wherein you look for whipped butter, because your (okay fine) _friend_ makes them like that, it’s fine. Totally fine. Completely expected. Derek has _seen_ Scott do it, too.

And friends sleep together all the time on the floor, tightly wrapped in each other’s arms, hands threaded through hair and tangled up in t-shirts trying to find a patch of bare, warm skin…right?


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, with the exception of thanking my beta-pack, Katieepretzel for helping me take this from 200 words to the almost 2000 here, and Elysa, for once again being left out of the loop, but kicking my ass on Tumblr, and understanding that sometimes real life just sucks- my notes will be at the end, so if you don't care why this was so late, you can just skip them at the bottom.  
> Oh, also, Stiles can be an ass at times.

_December 2010_

Stiles looked at the mess of tinsel, broken ornaments, and…was that fruitcake? How did Fred get fruitcake? _When did Stiles_ get fruitcake?! Fucking hell!

“Fred, did you knock over the tree? And where did the fruitcake come from? FRED!” Stiles looked closer at the mess in his living room; thank GOD the tree was still standing, albeit crooked, trying to see if he could find his adorably mischievous and hopefully cute enough to survive puppy. “I left you alone for an hour, AN HOUR Fred! How did you do all this?”

“Do all what?”

Stiles jumped and screamed, “What the hell, dude!”

“Sorry, Isaac is in the bathroom. I was trying to find a broom.” Danny said, stepping out of the kitchen like a ninja appearing from the shadows. “Do you always talk to your dog?”

“Well, _Danny_ , normally I know if someone other than me and Fred is gonna be home, so my talking to him isn’t an issue.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Anyways, you’re the dog trainer; you should know that it’s good to talk to them.”

“Yeah, most dogs…” Danny ran his hands through his hair, tilted his head to the side “…so, Isaac and I let ourselves in to find this. Do you even own a broom? Because if you do, I can’t find it.”

Stiles chose to ignore everything about that statement and everything about how perfect Danny’s hair was and how muscular Danny was compared to him, Stiles didn’t have muscles bulging through his t-shirts like that, yeah, maybe he could buy tighter shirts and probably grow his hair out and buy some gel to make it spike up like that in the front- and focused on the question. “Cupboard next to the fridge, the tall one most people call a broom cupboard?” He knew he was being rude, but he didn’t give a fuck. Danny was in his kitchen, his tree was barely standing, he couldn’t find Fred, and there were bits of mystery fruitcake littered all over the floor.

The hallway bathroom’s door was open, which meant Isaac must be in the master bathroom. Stiles left Danny to find the broom and stomped off, doing his best to keep the obscenities he was muttering to himself. He went to find his boyfriend, hopefully his puppy, and get some answers. He didn’t like Danny from the start, he was, and still is, thank you very much, certain that Danny’s up to something, even if his super-secret and amazingly awesome detective skills haven’t told him exactly what yet.  Stiles had police records pulled (using connections his dad would murder him for if he found out), talked to past employers (Yes, I am thinking about getting a dog trainer, and I was wondering if I could ask some questions?), he even talked to Boyd about it (doesn’t like Danny but can’t explain why).

And then he was met with an armful of wet, wiggly dog.

“What the holy hell?” Stiles asked, as his face was licked half off by a suspiciously minty smelling puppy.

“Stay there, really, no need to come in here ‘til I clean up, so just stay there!” Isaac said while throwing a towel at Stiles and slamming the door.

“Sorry, we made a little bit of a mess of your room when we got here.” Danny said from behind Stiles.

Stiles spun around, pulling his arms around Fred in a decidedly parental gesture of protection. “What the hell are you, half-ninja? You are, one of your parents was some sort of Hawaiian god, and the other was a ninja!” Stiles sputtered. Sure sputtering was undignified, and perhaps at some point Stiles should figure out how to be startled and annoyed like an adult (today was not the day for that to happen), but at least it was far better than screeching. Danny just stood his ground and cocked an eyebrow.

“Danny, stop teasing him!” Isaac said from the other side of the door. “Stiles, babe, I just needed some pictures of your bedroom. I was going to look for a new comforter and I wanted it to match. Fred got into the fruitcake I had with me, and then the tree got knocked over, I still don’t know how that happened, and then he ran in here.” Isaac opened the door, and Stiles looked in. There were bits of fruit and pine needles all over his bed, and wet spots leading from the bathroom to the entry. “I was going to try and clean up in here after I finished giving your furball here a bath, but he went nuts when he heard you.”

Stiles took a deep breath, shifting the slobber and panting Fred in his arms so that he had a hand free to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Let me see if I understand. You, my boyfriend, came over to get pictures of my room, because you want to get me bedding that matches my _décor_? Dude, my curtains are white!” Stiles spun on his heel to face Danny. “You! Why are you even here?”

“I carried the fruitcake.”

“Well, thank fuck for that! Did you see how the tree got knocked over?” Stiles ground out through gritted teeth.

“Nope, too busy lending Isaac a hand. Those pictures are fabulous.” Danny winked.

“Yeah, I am fucking sure they are. Didn’t answer my question though-why. are you. here?”

Isaac moved forward and put his arms around Stiles and Fred. “Woah, calm down. He’s just trying to help.”

Stiles pulled away from Isaac, turning to face him. “No. My house is a fucking mess, my dog and my shirt are wet, there’s pine needles all over my bed _and_ my floor, and I’m pretty sure 90% of those stupid glittery ornaments Lydia made me buy “Because full grown men don’t make construction paper crafts, _Stiiiiiles_ ” are broken. Do you have any idea what she’s gonna be like? And all because-what? A comforter and a fucking fruitcake? Who the hell is that even for? And why? No one fucking _likes_ fruitcake! It’s a thing, everyone knows this!”

Isaac drew back and moved closer to Danny, hurt clearly expressed on his face. Danny curled a hand around Isaac’s shoulder, before looking at Stiles. “I brought the fruitcake, actually. Thought it would be a nice getting to know you gift. The tree, well…I picked it back up after it fell.”

“How did it even, why would you? You know what, maybe you guys should just head out. It’ll be easier for me to clean by myself.”

“Stiles-“ Isaac started.

“No, it’s okay. Really. Fred’s clean now, and I appreciate that, but there is so much that I need to do, and I need to inventory what was broken so I know what I need to replace, and just…yeah.”

Stiles realized, as Danny pulled Isaac in closer, as he took in the dejected look on Isaac’s face, that he honestly expected Isaac to insist on staying and helping. Not on Isaac turning and walking away. Stiles heard Isaac quietly say he’d call tomorrow, see about bringing the new duvet and maybe some movies for them to watch…

Then he left. He walked out still holding Danny. Danny, who took a moment to wink, fucking wink, _again_ , at Stiles, as they left.

So there Stiles stood, in his hallway, minty fresh puppy nuzzling and licking his neck in one hand, chaos of pine and fruit and glitter all around him. He realized that he was wrong, there was no way in hell he could clean the house on his own and keep Fred from messing anything else up, or getting hurt, or just…well…being Fred.

What else could he do? He called Derek.

Lydia was in town, his dad wasn’t working, Scott used Fred to practice his baby-talking voice, hell, he’s even made a decent friendship with Erica and Boyd, but for whatever reason, as he swept up the broken baubles and pine needles, he dialed Derek.

When the doorbell rang, Stiles was still holding Fred in one hand and the broom in the other, surveying the epic damage everywhere except the one place he swept already. He flung the door open, still half expecting to see Isaac with an apology, though he doesn’t know exactly what for, and he knows he was partly in the wrong. Instead there was Derek, standing with Sasha on her leash at his side.

“Hey, I know that two puppies sound like the worst thing ever, but I thought that maybe they could occupy each other without destroying anything else? And then maybe I could help clean instead of just dogsitting?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He let the broom drop from one hand and set Fred on the floor (he immediately yipped at Sasha, then ran and hid behind Stiles when she barked back. Geez his dog is a fraidy cat) and then Stiles flung his arms around Derek.

“ _Thank you_.” Stiles breathed out, then inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of...more mint? “Seriously, just, thanks dude.”

Derek coughed, arms still at his side where Stiles had pinned them with his attack hug. Stiles awkwardly stepped back into his own ‘bubble’.

“Right yeah, sorry. I just-“ He said

“It’s okay, I get it-“ Derek spoke at the same time.

“-personal bubble, I know and-“

“-really, it’s okay, I-“

“-really rough day.”

“-you had a really rough night. What happened exactly?”

“Right, yeah.” Stiles coughed and moved into the house so that Derek and Sasha could actually enter. Derek bent down and unclipped her leash, and Sasha immediately ran over to Fred and tackled him. Stiles stifled a laugh.

Derek stood and whistled long and slow. “Hoooooo-ly shit! You weren’t kidding about the mess.”

“No, no I was not _, Der-Bear._ Isaac was here with Danny and I don’t know what all happened, maybe Fred hates Christmas or Fred hates Danny, I really think it’s that one but who’s counting, or just…this is what happened. There was fruitcake involved.”

Derek spoke softly, “And Isaac?”

“He left with Danny. I may have overreacted just a liiiiiiiitle bit but Danny was being fucking Danny and really pushing my buttons,”Stiles said, aggravated. “Andthen Isaac, well Isaac just…he left…”Stiles swallowed thickly before pasting on a smile “But it’s okay, dude, totally, because now Sasha can teach Fred how to be a real dog, and not a hyperactive, though totally loved, dust mop, and you can entertain me while I clean up Fred’s mess, which is perfect!”

“Right, yeah. Perfect.” Derek surveyed the room. “So, we’re waiting on the wrecker crew, right? You’re just gonna rebuild from scratch or…”

“Ahhhhh! Wolfman has jokes!” Stiles gestured widely. “I was thinking we should start by getting rid of the glass from the ornaments, and what’s left of the fruitcake. Y’know, eliminate the safety hazards and all.”

“Stiles, you _are_ a safety hazard, now your house matches. Except the fruitcake. Seriously, no one likes fruitcake, it’s a thing.”

Stiles stared, then abruptly turned to march out of the room. Derek stood in place, doubled over in laughter until Stiles returned, holding out a second broom.

“You. Sweep.” He pushed the broom into Derek’s hand and gestured to the mess by the Christmas tree. He had a dustpan himself, and walked over where the mess was concentrated. Over his shoulder, he said, “And stop making jokes, funny’s not a good look for you. Funny looking on the other hand…”

“Ha. Cute.”

Stiles broke out into stifled laughter as he bent down and swept a pan full of needles into a pile. “Aren’t I though?” he said, shit-eating grin wide on his face.

“You’re something,” Derek grumbled, but started sweeping.

On the other end of the room, the two puppies had finished their fighting and now were cuddled up together, spooning.

Fred was the little spoon. Of course.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I posted the last chapter. I thought everything was going to be great with me resuming my normal posting schedule. HA! Between chicken pox in the house, and a good friend still being in the hospital, I had a dear friend die, suddenly, of a heart attack. I couldn't go to the memorial, as I was contagious, and I had a house full of sick people, myself included, and writing was not something I was able to focus on.
> 
> Once I was FINALLY able to devote the time, the words weren't coming. If they were, I was unhappy with them. So there I was, depressive, ill, and with writer's block. It sucked.   
> I was able to turn out some tag ficlets on Tumblr, then some 3 sentence fics, then some drabbles, and then, when Katieepretzel pretty much threatened to hunt me down if I didn't send her ANYTHING to look at, this chapter started being built, and I use that term fairly literally, it was built, paragraph by paragraph, in text messages and barely formed sentences. I actually sent it to Katie twice with mid-sentence stops, one time I may have left a word half typed.
> 
> I'm going to attempt to get into the posting schedule again, but I make no promises other than that I will do my best to turn out work that I am happy with in a reasonable point of time.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the Thanksgiving that wouldn't end? Well, here's the first part of Derek's recollection of Christmas Eve/Christmas Day 2010. Sorry for the wait, I hope an over 4.5k word count makes up for it.   
> Thanks, as always, for my Beta, for my readers, for Jeff Davis who has not yet prosecuted me for writing this fic.  
> Already working on the next part, once I realized that it needed to be more than on chapter, otherwise y'all would still be waiting on on GIGANTIC chapter 20, instead of getting this, and waiting on a similar sized chapter 21, lol  
> Enjoy

_Christmas, 2012_

Derek sat on his couch, beer in one hand, other hand absently scratching between Sasha’s ears. He didn’t normally allow her on the couch, but she was warm and sleeping and _there_. Derek had a distinct lack of people around him right now, and he didn’t really know yet if that was a good or bad thing. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were always intense, being both surrounded by and lacking in, friends and family, but this year was especially rough.

Last night was the gathering of friends and family. In the past, they’d always done it in small groups, but everything was so interconnected now that it was just easier on everyone to do it all at once. So now instead of gathering in quiet, intimate groups at Scott and Allison’s, like they’d done before, everyone was meeting at Stiles’ place.  Stiles said it was because he wanted to show off the tree and decorations, but Derek was pretty sure it was because he wanted home field advantage.

After the ‘incident’ with the tree, Derek had worked damn hard with Stiles to not only clean up the mess, making sure no one or nothing was further injured,  but then helped Stiles hunt down and purchase as many identical replacement ornaments as possible.

To be clear, Stiles did the actual purchasing, because you know, it’d be weird if Derek was the one buying ornaments for someone else’s tree, ornaments that weren’t shared between the two of them, because it’s not like friends that don’t live together share ornaments. They just help make sure they’re even, and placed where the dogs… no, _puppy_ , singular, not dogs, which is plural, can get to them. Derek helped Stiles, because that is what friends do, they help, and Stiles was his friend, and Stiles was hurting and confused, and Derek, being a good _friend_ wanted to make him feel better, and clean up the mess, and he wanted to hold him and tell him that everything would be alright, because he would make it alright, and if Isaac couldn’t see how special he was….NO, no holding, a manly hug, with a back slap, and a hand shake between them, and beer, yes, beer and pizza…manly friend stuff, like with Scott.

So, Christmas Eve was a group get-together, meal, and gift exchange at Stiles’ house. When Derek arrived Allison and Stiles were already in the kitchen.  Isaac, Danny and Boyd were with Erica and Scott in the living room, and Jackson and Lydia were nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jay?” Derek asked. He tried not to laugh as Stiles dropped something in the kitchen.

“Derbe-uh,Derek! You didn’t knock, startled me.” Derek laughed at Stiles’ obvious fluster as he shouted from the other room. “Lydia apparently wasn’t happy with the wrapping paper he had, so she made him drive to her place so she could rewrap all the gifts. They should be here any moment.”

“Sorry about not knocking…I just figured it was safe to let myself in.” Derek ignored the glare he got from Danny. “Where’s Fred?”

“Stiles put him in the bedroom. The pup doesn’t seem to like Danny very much.” Boyd offered.

“Ah, well, I have a bone from his best friend Sasha for him.”

“Oh!” Erica jumped up, casting a quick glance around the crowd. “I love the furball, I’ll take the bone to him.” She ran up to Derek, gave him a hug while grabbing the bone, and whispered in his ear, “Things are strange, I don’t know what’s up but it’s just not….right.” Derek nodded as she pulled back, angled his chin in the direction of Danny and Isaac, who were sharing the large recliner, and raised his eyebrows. She nodded, before leaning in, kissing his cheek, and then running off while squealing something about puppy kisses and floof and redonk presh?

Right as Derek was about to ask where he should set the gifts and what he could do to help, the door behind him was thrown open and Jackson stumbled through with an arm full of meticulously wrapped gifts. Lydia followed behind…in jeans and a t-shirt. A nice t-shirt sure, because Lydia is obviously incapable of dressing like a lazy slob of a college undergrad, but still. Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her in such casual attire.

“Hey, cool, everyone’s here now!” Stiles said, stepping out of the kitchen. “Gifts can go under and around the tree, Allison and I almost have dinner done, and woo! Check out Lydia in her serious relaxing clothes.” Derek is really certain that Stiles snorted after he said that.

“So, Lydia not that you don’t look fabulous and comfy, but what’s this?” Derek asked after setting down his gifts, using his now free hand to motion to her clothes.

“Stiles and I, like his _mom,_ firmly believe that Christmas Eve is for comfort and friends, not being formal. So I do jeans, and Stiles does, well….that.”

Derek turned and was thankful he set down the gifts, or he would have dropped them. Stiles was standing there, flour smudge on his face, flannel pajama pants sitting low on his hips, and a white tank top. _Jesus_. Where was this boy hiding those arms and shoulders and that chest and…wow, there was flour smudged on the sliver of skin showing between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his pants. Holy shit.

“Well,” Derek swallowed, “I feel overdressed now.”

“Tell me about it.” The room chorused, except Scott and Allison. Derek didn’t notice before, but where everyone else was dressed similar to him, nice jeans or slacks, button up shirt, Scott was in a track suit, and Allison…

“Allison, where does one go about finding penguin printed footie pajamas to fit a pregnant woman?”

“Derek! I know! Melissa found them for me, and I am waiting on getting more because they are so comfy, and I am sure that once Peanut here gets bigger I won’t like them so much but aren’t they just amazing?” Allison rattled off quickly, and happily.

“Yep, Mom got them for her. If she isn’t working, or out shopping, it’s all she will wear. Aren’t I just the luckiest?” Scott joked, it was obvious he was joking by the adoring look he lavished upon his wife.

“Well, here’s the deal, I don’t know how it was done when we all met separately, but the way we are doing it now is thus: food, gifts, movies for those staying, airport rides for those who aren’t and need it. I’m not drinking, so I can drive if needed.” Stiles announced.

While he was talking, he was also bringing out pans of homemade pizza. “This one is ham and pineapple, as I was informed that ham is traditional Christmas dinner fare even though I firmly believe that turkey is vastly underrated and deserves more than one holiday where it is showcased, but whatever. There’s a vegetarian, a meaty one, and the smaller one, that I get at least half of, thankyouverymuch, is sliced sausage, roasted red pepper, spinach, provolone, and feta.” Stiles took a deep breath before hollering ‘Erica, FOOD! Everyone else, dig in!”

Derek stood there as everyone lined up at the table, letting Allison go first, and then helping themselves to pizza and beverages. He could certainly see how comfortable Scott, Allison, Lydia and Stiles were with their tradition, and it explained why Scott was also so awkward looking when, years previous, earlier in the day, he and Derek, Erica and Jackson would always get together, dude knew he had comfy clothes and casual food to look forward to. Before grabbing his own food, Derek shucked off his button up, tossing it on the jacket pile, leaving him in the white undershirt. He thought he heard a slight gasp, but when he looked, everyone was occupied.

Derek watched as everyone coupled off to eat, noting that Isaac, Danny and Stiles were sitting together. He watched as Stiles would brush his hand across Isaac’s leg, only to have Danny put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. He could see Danny and Stiles sniping at each other, and Isaac would occasionally say something to placate one or the other. Derek grabbed some of Stiles’ pepper and sausage pizza and went to sit with the three men.

“-I just don’t see why I can’t get any time with you _alone_ anymore.” Stiles hissed.

“Maybe because he prefers my company?” Danny retorted.

“I just can’t leave Danny alone, Stiles, not when he gave up everything out east to be here with me.”

Derek couldn’t help the crinkle in his brow when he heard that. Danny shouldn’t be here for Isaac; Isaac was dating Stiles before Danny came to L.A. Did Isaac really not get how his words could be read? Derek knows that if he moved somewhere for someone, then the expectation would be that he _moved_ for them. That he would have uprooted everything in his life in the hopes of building a new one with the _person he moved for._

Either Isaac was oblivious to why Danny moved here, or Isaac was stringing Stiles, or Danny for that matter, along. Isaac wasn’t oblivious, in Derek’s opinion, but he also wasn’t one to play the field like that either. So, was Danny manipulating Isaac, was Isaac manipulating Danny and Stiles, or was the entire thing out of everyone’s control?

 Derek sat and took a bite of pizza, moaning as the flavors hit his tongue. “Oh my god Stiles, this is fucking delicios! You’ll have to make this for Peter sometimes.” Derek moaned, and once he noticed everyone had stopped talking and was staring at him, he held a slice up towards Jackson and Erica. “Jay, Ricky, you NEED to try this, it’s… _Mom_ , the pasta thing? But on pizza.”

Jackson and Erica almost, no they _definitely,_ sprinted to the table to grab a slice each. After taking bites, they looked somewhere between heartbroken and blissful.

“Stiles, please, can you make this for Dad?” Erica asked, quietly. “It would mean a lot.”

 “What? My sausage and pepper pizza, yeah, just let me know when…do you guys want it for tomorrow? I can totally whip one up after presents and driving people to the airport!” Derek was stunned at how Stiles’ entire _being_ just lit up at the idea of making something just to make Peter happy. Stiles didn’t ask why, he understood what having a connection to someone who isn’t there anymore means.

Derek lost so much in the fire, is home, his parents, his sister, but he got to have them at his graduation, he got to have his mom nurse his through being ill, broken hearts, he had a sister to fight with and love and protect, and a dad who was there for games. It dawned on him in that moment that Stiles honestly had his dad, Melissa, and his friends. Stiles mom died when he was barely a teenager, his dad worked all the time, Lydia and Scott were his everything. The friends he chose to spend the day with were his family of choosing, and as much as Stiles obviously disliked Danny, he tolerated him, because someone Stiles cared for wanted him around.

“I thought I was just gonna be parking my car there?” Boyd said. “And then Jackson or Derek would take Erica home to their family stuff with them? Wasn’t that the plan, Isaac?”

Isaac nodded sheepishly, Stiles frowned a bit, then smiled. “Awesome, so I can get that tossed together doing movie and booze time! Now, PRESENTS!” And there it is. There is Stiles smoothing things over instead of being hurt. There is Stiles not commenting on a change in plans that, once again, effects the time he gets with his boyfriend, instead just brushing it under the table. Derek cannot, for the life of him, understand how he is the only one seeing this. Scott and Lydia at the very least must know, and that no one is speaking up…but then, he isn’t either. What would he say or do right now that wouldn’t make things somehow worse for Stiles?

Derek stifled a laugh as a house full of adults suddenly became clamoring 5 year olds climbing over each other for seats on the couch and armchairs. Seriously, it seemed like someone had replaced them all with adult sized kindergarteners and the living room was their jungle gym.

“Derek, since you’re the one left standing, you have to hand out gifts.” Scott explained. “Last year we went round robin and that took freaking FOREVER, so this year we decided to just hand them all out at once and just let people open them. Well, I mean, we kinda figured that would be best….are you guys okay with that?” Derek was actually stunned by Scott thinking to ask if he and Jackson, Erica and Boyd, and Danny and Isaac would be okay with the plans. Going by the way everyone was looking at him expectantly, Derek assumed this was OK and said so before he headed over to the tree to start handing out the, Jesus, _mountain_ of gifts.

“Dude, don’t forget to look on the tree for gift cards, I put them there so they don’t get lost or stuck to a wrapped gift on accident. I think they’re behind that birdhouse that we fou-“

“Yeah, I see them.” Derek cut Stiles off, still if anyone knew about the tree and his effort to restore it to its former glory. He hadn’t told anyone, though he’s still not really sure why. Maybe it’s because he likes the idea that he and Stiles have something that is just theirs, just something that they know.

But really, it’s probably because he’s scared of Lydia.Yeah… he’ll just keep telling himself that’s why. Although Lydia is particularly terrifying when crossed….and he has no intention of being on the receiving end of that again.

He and Stiles had gone through the extensive trouble of finding replicas of the ornaments Lydia had made him buy – seriously, Lydia has ridiculously unique and hard to find taste- so why would they just publicize it and ruin all their covert hard work?

 He figures if he keeps telling himself that the only reason to keep it private is Lydia, he’ll eventually forget that it’s really because he wants him and Stiles to have something that’s _theirs…_ because there is no _them_ and shit, he _cannot_ be doing what he’s accusing Isaac or Danny of doing, and pining after someone and something that is not his…because Stiles isn’t his, and there is no _theirs_ or _them_ or _we_ despite how much Derek has realized he desperately wants there to be.

Derek passed out the gifts, not surprised Stiles, Scott and Allison were only exchanging small things. He knew they’d do their bigger exchange tomorrow with the Sheriff and Melissa. Just like he, Jackson and Erica would with Uncle Peter Kate and Gerry, and Boyd and Isaac would with their own families. The gifts for Lydia made the largest pile because she spent Christmas with her mom and wouldn’t see any of the rest of them. Her strict and slightly extravagant list distributed to the rest of them exactly four weeks prior might also account for the massive stack in front of her.

Allison and Erica were next, with more gift bags than anything else.

Derek set a large box from Stiles down by his thigh, before handing a similarly large box from himself to Stiles. Other than the packages, the two of them had just gift cards, like all the rest of the men, with the exception of one gift each for Isaac and Scott.

Isaac got a long flat box with a jingle bell tag; Scott had what could best be described as a wad of wrapping paper and tape.

Sitting back, he watched as Danny opened an extensive collection of rather generic gift cards (because really, what do you get the intruder to their little group who obviously fails to understand how his actiuons are affecting other people, really, the lack of consideration…)

Jackson opened his cards for photography supply stores while Erica and Lydia squealed over their spa gift cards.

Everyone awed at Allison’s reaction to a series of gift certificates to the same spa, some for prenatal specific things, like pregnancy massage, and then one for a post-natal spa package. Derek was fairly proud of their idea, he’d told everyone how much Kate wanted to feel ‘normal’ after Gerry was born, and the group  decided it was a brilliant suggestion. Everything just flowed from there.

Boyd practically suffocated Erica with a ‘thank you’ kiss for the new suit she’d given him, his gift being the letter from the tailor on how to schedule a fitting.

Scott said that te McCall jersey and matching baby onesie that Derek gave him (the gift that was in the wad of wrapping paper and tape, how the hell do you wrap clothes?) won for best gift. Let it never be said that Derek doesn’t know how to give fucking fantastic Christmas presents. Really, just ask his five your old cousin. And, well, Scott, who may as well be Derek’s five your old cousin when it comes to gifts.

Isaac clapping drew Derek’s attention next. In Isaac’s long, flat box was a collection of extraordinarily nice Moleskine notebooks, and some Parker pens.

“Stiles, wow, did Lydia and Derek tell you to get me this?”

“No.” Derek noted the pout that crossed Stiles face briefly. “I just pay attention. When you’re working on something, you like to write it out longhand first, and you always comment on how you love your Moleskines so….yeah.”

“Stiles….thank you. Really. It means a lot that you noticed that.” Isaac almost whispered.

Derek wanted to redirect the conversation and move past Isaac’s obvious lack of faith in his boyfriend’s knowledge of him. That and he wanted to keep any physical diplays of affection from occurring, not that Stiles looked particularly apt for that. Another reason to get him to open his gifts. “So, what did you get, Stiles?” Derek asked.

“Oh, well, lemme see!” Stiles started with his gift cards. “Isaac, cool, Best Buy…awesome.”

“What’s with the box, Stiles?” Scot asked after a moment of what could only be described as awkward silence.

Derek tried not to tense up (out of what, nervousness? Why the hell is he nervous? You don’t get nervous when your friends are opening gifts, snap out of it Derek!)  when Stiles got to the small packages taped to the larger package that he knew contained his gifts. “Derek, dude…new sticks, I needed those, and…HOLY SHIT! Dude, where the hell did you even find these?”

Scott was up and crowding around the box before Stiles had even made it to the second ‘dude!’. “What’d he get you, other than drum sticks? Dude, I didn’t know you knew Stiles drummed,” Scott said before his eyes bugged out as he watched Stiles hold up the rest of Derek’s gift - a classic Grimlock, Strafe, and Optimus Prime. “Holy shit dude, I haven’t seen these anywhere since we were kids! That’s like, classic, not Michael Bay! Derek, what the hell, you can’t spend that much money on Stiles!” Scott was yelling.

“Scott, chill. Stiles, you like them?” Stiles just nodded, seemingly speechless. “First off, they’re not just me, Peter and Kate pitched in too because Gerry insisted that Stiles needed them. Second,” and this point was directed at Scott, “I have a connection, okay? It wasn’t a big deal.” Derek looked around the room as if he were waiting for someone to challenge him on this.

“Der…these are really awesome, and the sticks, man, Fred chewed on my last really good pair, fluffy adorable little devil that he is, and these are the brand I use, just…thanks.” Stiles set the toys and sticks in the larger box, and then got up and headed into the kitchen while the rest of them milled about, talking and organizing gifts. Derek could hear things being moved around, the clanking of pots and pans, but it didn’t sound like anything was really happening. He was about to get up and check that Stiles was alright, that he wasn’t hurt by Isaac’s gift or  that _his_ gift wasn’t too much, when Lydia spoke up.

“So, Derek, what’s in your big package?”

Jackson spit out a mouthful of soda, Allison choked on a bite of pizza, and there was a crash from the kitchen.

“I meant his gift, sickos.” Lydia primly stated, not even trying to hide her smirk.

Derek looked down at the box, laughing when he noticed the nametag was a bear in a baseball uniform, with a lovely little ‘From, Stiles’ written in his chicken scratch underneath the bear’s cleats. No wonder the punk had to stop from saying Derbear all day. It’s not that Derek liked the nickname, at least not when anyone else used it, but coming from Stiles, it just sounded right…

Derek was’t a ripper, he never had been. He was a careful slider of a finger along the seam until you can slit the tape sort of unwrapper. Okay, and maybe he kept sneaking looks at that stupid gift tag and maybe it made him feel things and maybe that’s why it took him so long. But mostly the first thing.

“Stiles! This entire thing is not nearly as funny as you think it is!” Derek yelled.

“Screw you, it’s hilarious!” Stiles shouted back from the kitchen. “Anyway, you’re gonna need all the practice you can get when we have a rematch this summer!”

“Fair enough, but I should have gotten you a bat instead of sticks. After all, someone’s gotta teaqch you how to swing one”

“Derek, I’m pretty sure Stiles has bat handling down by now.” Scott gasped before falling to the floor and giggling.

“You know that’s right!” Isaac agreed, only to be slapped on the back of the head by Danny.

“From what I’ve seen, he needs more experience working with something that sas some…heft, some weight to it.” Derek couldn’t help retorting. Erica was laughing into Boyd’s neck, and Jackson looked scandalized.

“So…uh…who’s having coffee and who’s having drinks and who’s leaving?” Stiles squeaked while poking his head out of the kitchen, leaning half his body out the doorway. Derek rather enjoyed the blush that was tingeing Stiles ears.

“If Danny, Isaac and I are catching our flight, we need to be heading out, dude, but thanks for hosting this!” Boyd said. “Hey, Danny, why don’t you help me load the truck while Isaac says good bye, okay?” The tone of his voice left little room for argument, but Danny still looked less than pleased. Derek may or may not have silently congratulated Boyd in his head. Completely without snarky comments about Danny and how he best listen to Boyd if he knows what’s good for him.

“Yeah, okay. Stiles, good seeing you again, and remember what we talked about, yeah?” Danny said, walking to the kitchen and gently squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.

Derek bristled, because unless there were other conversations he’d missed (and he didn’t think there had been) all that Danny and Stiles had talked about was, essentially, how much Isaac preferred Danny over Stiles. It was hard, stopping himself from standing up and looming over Isaac’s shoulder to chaperone their goodbyes, making sure that he didn’t say or do anything to make the situation worse.

The hug that they shared looked cold. Stiles kissed Isaac on the forehead and then Isaac was gone. Boyd came back in to give Erica another hug and kiss and to let her know he’d text her when they landed, then he, too, was gone.

“So,” Stiles cleared his throat, “I’m going to get that pizza put together for you guys for tomorrow, I know Allison isn’t drinking but what do you want, SCott? Jackson, Lyds, you staying? Derek, I have a couple of bottles of that beer you like in the fridge, and I’m not drinking them so you’d better.”

“Stiles, sweetie, I think Scott and I are heading out. We’ll see you tomorrow after we pick up Melissa and John from the hotel, okay?” Allison said.

“Why are they in a hotel instead of just staying here with Stiles?” Erica asked.

“Stiles told them they couldn’t risk another Thanksgiving so soon.” Scott snickered, right before he and Allison walked out the door.

“Well, I am _certain_ that Derek would like a beer, and I’ll take one, too!” Lydia piped up, giving Derek a Look with a capital L. A Look that inspired terror. A Look that said ‘we WILL talk about this later’.  The thing was, Derek had no clue what he did to upset her.

“I’m not drinking, so I can drive me and Derek later, but I’d love some cocoa.” Erica added, also giving Derek a Look.

“Stiles, why are the women glaring at Derek?” Jackson got up and started to walk into the kitchen, nervously hightailing it away from the girls.

“Not so fast, mister.” Stiles stepped out of the kitchen, hand wrapped in the hem of his shirt as he uncapped the two beer bottles. “First you’re bringing drinks to people, then grab a bag and help Lydia clean up. If we decide on a movie, Lydia will tell me what I need to make based on the movie selection. It’s tradition.”

“You never answered my question!”

“I have no clue why they’re glaring at him. I try not to ask what incurred their wrath unless their stares of death are directed at me.” Stiles sighed, handing the bottles to Jackson. “Just bring him his beer please, you know he hates it when it gets even a little warm.” Stiles then returned to the kitchen, presumably to make Erica’s cocoa.

Jackson turned, beers in hand, and glared at Derek.

“What!?”

“How does Stiles know what you drink?” Erica hissed.

“And the better question – why does Stiles, who only drinks beer on exactly two occasions, neither of which are this one, have it on hand?” Lydia almost growled.

“And how does he know you don’t like it if isn’t damn near frozen?” Jackson added.

Derek swiveled his head between Erica, Lydia and Jackson. “We talk, we’re friends now, and I know _he_ prefers gin. What’s the big deal?”

No one had an answer for him. Derek knew Erica had seen him sleeping on the floor with Stiles after Thanksgiving, and he assumes that Scott said something to Lydia, but it’s not like he and Stiles have anything to hide. They’re freinds, there’s nothing wrong with being friendly, they all kept trying to get them to hang out before now anyway, and seriously, is he the only one who remembers this?

“Derek, Jackson hasn’t come back yet, I think the girls ate him or something, can you find out the movie so I can make snacks?”

“Well?” Derek asked, looking to Lydia for answers.

“Tell him _A Christmas Story_ , and that I want my mashed potatoes fried.” Lydia said, before…oinking?

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All disclaimers still apply. Also, even though I own a kick ass copy of "A Christmas Story" I don't own any of the rights. Katiepretzel rocks my socks. It is my earnest intention to have another chapter posted in a week or less.  
> I will do my level best.  
> Enjoy

_Still Christmas Night 2010 Derek's recollection of Christmas Eve 2010...if you follow_

Derek rubbed the back of his neck as he walked into the kitchen. “Lydia said something about fried mashed potatoes.  It’s also entirely possible that she oinked at me. I’m still not really sure what happened.”

“Awesome! That means she picked _A Christmas Story_ , which means fried mashed potato patties and duck confit.” Stiles turned and started grabbing things from the fridge. “It’s a good thing I had Allison make me a jar of confit, and it’s a good thing that Lydia hasn’t figured out that I use it with almost all of the Christmas Eve movie snacks.”

“Stiles, three  questions… one, what is _A Christmas Story_ and two, do you mean potato pancakes, and three what is duck confit?” Derek tried, and failed, to not jump at how quickly Stiles turned to face him.

“Answering in reverse order, duck confit is duck leg and thigh that was salt preserved and then poached and, in this case, jarred, in duck fat. It is delicious. I’m using the fat to fry the mashed potato patties.” Derek barely managed to hold onto the jar that Stiles thrust at him. “Two, no I do not mean potato pancakes. I take left over mashed potatoes, lightly bread them, and fry them. They are like, the best French fry ever. Three…HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW…y’know what, just, _A Christmas Story_ is tradition. It is funny and stupid and there’s a leg lamp and ‘how do the little piggies eat’ with mashed potatoes and the duck at the Chinese restaurant and ‘You’ll shoot your eye out’ and just, it’s awesome, okay?”

After taking the jar, all Derek could do was watch in awe as an extremely flustered Stiles piled food on the counter, and (rather nicely, because he’s Stiles, and Derek isn’t entirely certain that Stiles is capable of being intentionally mean)berated him for not having seen _A Christmas Story_.

Derek laughed when Stiles finished his rant and food removal and just turned, hands held up in the air, clearly put off that there was such an ‘Grand Canyon-esque’ gap in his ‘pop-culture knowledge’. “Awesome movie, got it. I’m seeing it tonight, so no big deal, yeah?”

“Yes! Yes big deal! You are a fully formed adult your twenties and you don’t know what the big deal is. Man, you should know this.” Stiles sighed. “I won’t spoil it, even though I should as punishment for you not knowing. We need to get this pizza made before I can make the snacks, can you go tell Lydia it’ll be a bit, make yourself useful?”

Thinking he was being dismissed for a lack of movie knowledge, Derek slunk back to the living room. “It’ll be a bit.”

“Hey, _Derek?”_ Erica singsonged from her spot on the floor, cuddling Fred, “Wanna go tell Stiles not to bake the pizza, just write out the instructions? I would do it, but since you sent his bestest friend ever to Dad’s already, Fred is all alone and needs me.” Was Erica babytalking him or the dog?

Derek felt like a ping-pong ball as he turned to head back to the kitchen.

“Sti-“ Derek froze, trying to wrap his mind around the scene before him. Stiles was bent over, pulling something from a bottom cabinet. He was singing what sounded suspiciously like “Milkshake”, somehow shaking his ass (his plaid flannel covered ass) and his shirt had ridden up to show an impressive expanse of side.

“Stiles, “ Derek tried again, “Erica said just put the pizza together, don’t bake it, and...”Derek snickered, “If you were to teach me, how much would you charge?” Derek fell against the wall, laughing at the way Stiles just froze when he heard his voice.

“How is it even possible that you know the words to _Milkshake_ but yet have never seen _A Christmas Story,_ which is arguably one of the mostclassic Christmas movies of all time?” Stiles asked, without moving.

“They play it at the stadium. So, yeah, just write out the baking instructions for the pizza, please.”  Derek was still breathy from laughing, just a bit, but he was definitely not staring at Stiles’ ass. No, it was just the natural focus point from where he was standing. He was talking to Stiles, so he as looking at Stiles. Polite rules of conversation and all. Because friends? Friends did not stare at friends’ asses. Friends did not think about how very perfectly friends’ asses would fit in the curve of their hand. Friends definitely didn’t think about how very perfect friends’ asses would… be… in other… situations. Shit. “Are you going to get up?”

“You want another beer?” Stiles asked, still bent over.

“Uh….sure?”

Derek had to laugh as Stiles turned around, still bent over, opened the fridge, got a beer, and then held it over behind his head.

“Just, go in the living room. I’m going to wallow in my shame at being caught singing _that_ , and make the snack,” Stiles snickered a little, “and by snack, I mean second meal. Tell Lydia it will be like, 20 minutes.” Stiles said, remaining hidden by the fridge door.

Derek stood for a minute, until Stiles hand popped up over the lip of the door again, and made a shooing motion.

It took Derek a few moments to realize that everyone was staring at him when he walked back in the living room.

“Derek, you okay? You look like you did that one time when you brought Gerry home without calling first, and I know Kate and Dad aren’t in the kitchen.” Jackson laughed.

“He…Stiles…just, all, and…”

“Oh, Derek, honey.” Lydia’s voice was dripping with saccharine, “Was it SheBop, or LoveGame maybe, he loves singing about the Disco Stick, or…oh no, were you _brought to the yard_?”

 “Twenty minutes. The food’ll be twenty minutes.”  Derek replied, before sitting down, uncapping his beer, taking a long swig, and _pointedly_ ignoring Lydia.

“Oh, hey, Can you go and see if Stiles would make me more cocoa? Maybe with the dark chocolate this time?” Erica asks.

“Oooh…see if he has any duck and sherry reduction gravy leftover from last week!” Lydia almost squealed.

Derek once again got up off the couch, and walked to the kitchen. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, he had a mug being placed in his hands.

“So glad you came back, bring this to Erica, tell her it’s the dark chocolate this time, ignore her if she whines because she told me last week she wanted the dark for Christmas Eve, and get her empty. Ask if Lydia wants the leftover gravy, thanks darlin’.”

Derek blinked, looked at the mug in his hands, and wondered, briefly, if Stiles was psychic. Turning on his heels, he went back to the living room, swapped mugs, and grabbed Jackson’s beer bottle, then reversed his circuit.

“Stiles, Lydia wants the gravy, where do you want the empty bottle and mug?”

“Awesome, mug goes in the sink, bottle goes underneath, both of which you well know because you’ve been here before and I know you paid attention during orientation, and then I need your hands over here on these thighs.” Stiles said over his shoulder.

Stiles needed Derek’s hands on what now?

“Excuse me?” Derek choked out.

“I need you to help me shred the thigh meat, so we can give it a toss in a hot pan. I can form the potato patties, or I can shred duck, but I can’t do both, as I have yet to grow a second set of arms. Wouldn’t that be awesome though?” Stiles explained. “The thigh meat is fatty, but so tasty. Just shred it with your fingers, it’s super easy.”

Derek stood next to Stiles and they worked in relative silence. Derek is surprised by how silent Stiles is anytime he’s cooking. This isn’t his first exposure to it, and he hopes (fiercely, desperately, prays) this isn’t the last.

Every now and then he looks over at Stiles to get a nod of encouragement, and he can’t help but pause to watch. If you didn’t know that Allison was really the cook of the group, and Stiles was the comic, you could easily confuse the two. Stiles is so sure of his movements, so practiced. Derek stared as he deftly formed potatoes into a patty, dredged them through flour, then egg, then bread crumbs before setting them in the hot fat.

“Stiles?” Derek finally breaks the silence. “Why do you flour them before you egg them?” He wasn’t really that curious about the breading process, but for some reason he wanted to hear Stiles talk.

“Hmm, that? It gives the egg something to stick to, makes the breading stick better.  Since you’re done with the duck, you can go sit now. I’m almost done in here, just need to reheat the meat, so if you can let them know, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Can you get me a napkin or a towel or something? I have duck on my hands.”

Derek is one hundred per cent fucking lost, doesn’t have a fuck’s clue what to do when Stiles grabs his hand, and then _licks_. When his hot, wet tongue laves across the palm and then cleverly slides between and around each finger before Stiles pops the tip of each into his mouth and sucks, briefly. Once he’s done this to all for fingers, he runs his teeth across Derek’s thumb, takes Derek’s hand and rubs it down his shirt front.

“There y’go, it’s how I clean my hands when I’m done.” Stiles said. Like friends lick friends’ hands all the time.

And that’s something friends totally do, Derek thinks, as he walks in a daze to the couch and sits. Right?

Nope. No, they most _certainly_ do not. And was Derek prepared to examine why that had just happened? No, he most certainly was not.

But Stiles _is_ his friend, and that had just happened.

“Oh, yeah, Stiles said it’ll be just a minute.”

So when Stiles sat next to him on the couch, with one overly full plate for the two of them to share… that _must_ be something friends do.

“Before we start the movie, I made fried mashed potato patties, which are just what they sound like, shredded duck confit, and per our dear Lady Lydia’s request, the duck and sherry gravy . If anyone needs something to drink, you know where the fridge is. Sir Derek is done for the night.” Stiles proclaimed, patting Derek’s thigh before reaching across his body to turn off the light.

Derek looked up just in time to have a fork shoved in his face.

“I figure you can feed yourself, but a single plate cuts down on my dish load.” Stiles whispered.

Derek just nodded at him, took the fork, and attempted to stab food while watching the movie.  He was immediately laughing at Ralphie, and thinking about what a bully Scut was. Then Stiles leaned over to whisper in his ear. Derek’s pretty sure lips graved his earlobes at one point.

“Zack is an awesome actor, funny, a really great guy, but if you ever meet him do _not_ call him Scut.Made that mistake, believe me.” It hit Derek in that moment that this person he was sitting next to acted. Stiles was in movies, and actually knew some of these people in real life. He wondered if it was like that for people watching sports with him. If it just suddenly struck them that Derek might actually know these athletes, that they might actually play pick up hoops or have coffee together.

Stiles would interject something about an actor, or tell Derek to pay attention to an upcoming scene, but Derek was focused on the movie, was concentrated on the warm, familiar, fuzzy comfort that came from being snuggled on the couch with Stiles, with Erica, Jackson and Lydia scattered around the toom. These people…they were his family, as were Scott an Allison, even though they had left

 “Derek, open your mouth.” Stiles said, after about 20 minutes. Derek immediately obayed (and he was not going to even think about how mindlessly he opened his mouth for Stiles), and almost immediately moaned. There was crispy and creamy and salty and savory and rich dancing across his tongue all at once.

“Dear god Stiles, that is so good, do it again.” Derek said after swallowing, only to startle and jump at Erica’s laughter.

“The taste…I mean, the food. Stiles’ food is so good.” Derek said, snatching his fork back and taking a bite for himself.

“He was so hung up in the movie, didn’t even notice me poking his leg, and seriously, how could you guys let him go his entire life without seeing it? Anyways, he was so engrossed I just decided to feed him a bite. I feed people all the time, literally. Just ask Lydia about her lunchtime manicures.” Stiles explained.

Derek _knew_ he and Stiles were friends, and see, friends feed each other!

There was no reason for him to be jealous of Lydia. So he wasn’t. At all.

“Lydia?” Erica asked.

“After the movie, now sush!” Lydia commanded.

And they did. Everyone just watched the movie, laughing, eating, and being together.

Derek was afraid he was going to hyperventilate from laughing when they got to the mashed potato and how the little piggies eat, and then the Chinese restaurant and the duck! He knew he, Erica and Jackson would be saying ‘fra-gee-lay, it’s Italian’ all day tomorrow, and he now really, _really_ wants a Red Ryder BB Gun.

He sincerely hoped everyone would be too distracted by the rest of the movie that no one would notice or at least not comment on how close he and Stiles were on the couch. Stiles elbow was resting on Derek’s thigh, Derek’s ankle was hooked behind Stiles’, and Fred was sleeping over both of their laps. Derek didn’t even notice when the pup abandoned Erica for them.

“Well, now that the movie is over, please explain manicure lunches?” Erica asked.

Lydia laughed lightly. “when we were in school, I would do my nails at lunch, and Stiles would feed me. Really it served multiple purposes. Kept the guys away from me, it kept the girls away from Stiles, and my nails were always perfect!” Lydia explained, as if it was the most normal thing ever. “Jackson, didn’t you ever help Erica like that, or Derek, Didn’t Laura…”

Derek tensed at the way Lydia faded off. Yeah, it sucked losing them, Dad and Mom and Laura, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t talk about them. Someone had ripped them away from him, but it didn’t mean they’d never existed. Derek didn’t like talking about the fire, but he still loved talking about his family, he adored keeping their memories alive, even if they weren’t.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat, “yeah, when it was off season and I wasn’t practicing all the time, I actually did Laura’s toes for her. She joked that I was the best combination of a brother and gay best friend a girl could ever hope for.” Derek stared at his hands while he talked, one sitting on his leg, the other scratching Fred’s ears. “I miss it.”

“Mom.” Stiles said softly.

Derek turned, heart stuttering at Stiles profile, the sadness in his smile, the moisture gathered in his eye.

“Mom, before the cancer… she always kept her nails amazing. She would come in from gardening, and clean, file, and polish them. The chemo…she couldn’t…they told her no more nail polish because of the chemical or something.” Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath.

Derek broke his gaze on Stiles’ face and took a quick glance around at everyone. He focused on Lydua - she looked lost between wanting to laugh and wanting to sob. “So, Mom’s in the hospital, right? And I’m feeding her, and she mentions that it’s just like when I would feed her when she was waiting for the polish to dry, and how much she missed seeing the colorful nails. So as soon as I got home, I painted mine, each one a different color. It was horrible, I made a mess, there was more polish on my hands than on my actual nails, but when mom saw them the next day, she was so _happy_. Lydia and Melissa, they taught me how to do my nails so that every day, Mom could have them to look at. Still do my toes because of it, too.”

Derek looked down at their entwined limbs and realized that yes, Stiles’ toe nails were, indeed, painted. Red and green, alternating.

“Auntie taught me to wear makeup, without it being obvious, so that Dad wouldn’t freak out.” Erica added.

“Your dad bought me my first camera.” Jackson said, right before a flash went off. Derek realized that Jackson always had some sort of camera with him.

“Stiles, your mom, she told me to make sure you did great things, and never to let you name a dog Fred. Dammit.” Lydia sniffed.

“Alright.” Stiles rolled his shoulders back, cracked his neck.  “Movies been over for a while, I have clean up to do, and y’all have places to be tomorrow. I’m kicking you out.” Stiles stood up, walked into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic wrapped pizza pan and handed it to Erica. “I am leaving you in charge of this, if it turns out well, _maybe_ I _might_ let you babysit Fred next time I travel,” Stiles turned and winked, “you know, if Derek, AHEM, I mean _Sasha_ can bear to see him happy in the arms of another.” He shook Jackson’s hand, kissed Lydia’s forehead, and then wrapped Derek in a giant hug. “Thank you, for being here, for getting us to talk… about them. Merry Christmas Derbear.”

Derek just squeezed Stiles a little harder. He knows what it’s like to do the holidays, to need to remember and want to forget all rolled into one.  He really didn’t want to think about what it was like to not have your boyfriend there to help. He really didn’t want to think about how much he wishes Stiles boyfriend _were_ there to help, and he didn’t mean Isaac.

If Derek were a lucky man, Erica won’t have noticed anything, they will go to his place, crash out, and be good to go in the morning.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for being patient with me. Beta had finals, I had a birthday, and all that jazz.  
> Hope you like it.

_Derek's recollection of the earlier part of Christmas, 2010_

Erica had given him a completely false sense of security with the relative peace of the drive home. She’d been focused on the road, and on not damaging them or his precious, beloved Camaro. It was almost okay, because Derek wasn’t going to let himself think about Stiles tonight. He could deal with that after tomorrow, after he spent a day with his uncle, soon to be aunt, and Gerry. Oh, and the rest of his cousins. (Yeah okay, G-Man is absolutely his favorite, whatever. He loves Jay and Erica, but after tonight, Gerry has that position clinched for _life._ )

They’d gotten to his house, and through the front door and everything, when it hit him. It meaning Erica, and hit him meaning _she literally hit him in the back of the head_.

“So, you and Stiles then?”

Based on her tone, Derek had a brief moment of thinking he was fine (even though she’d just _hit_ him, god he could be an idiot sometimes), that all it was going to be was the one ridiculously hard smack to the head to get his attention.

“WHAT ABOUT HIS BOYFRIEND?” Erica yelled, _yelled_ , before smacking him again. “You know, _your_ ex-on again off again fling?” Smack. “Curly hair, killersmile, Boyd’s brother?” Smack. “The one you are _so_ angry at because of Danny? Is any of this ringing any bells?” Then she punched him, hard, in the arm. “I swear, on everything you hold sacred and dear, that if you are the one who fucks this up, if you are the one who makes everything awkward, I will…..I don’t even know what I’ll do, seriously, Der, what were you thinking?”

“It’s not like that, Erica.” There, she’d calmed down a bit. Which…actually, with Erica wasn’t always a good thing.

“Not like what? Not like you were snuggling him on the couch?”

“No, Erica…it’s not…he licked my hand!”

“Like, what, the way I lick you to piss you off? Would you like me to demonstrate? It feels appropriate right now.”

Derek rolled his eyes hard at Erica. “No, he _licked_ my hand, then sucked and nibbled on my thumb. Told me I tasted good.” Derek was only a little bit in pain now. It’s not like he _likes_ remembering these things, not like he _enjoyed_ reliving the way Stiles’ tongue had flitted between his fingers, the way he’d pulled off his thumb with an audible pop that had very nearly caused a jeans tightening leaving zipper imprints on a person situation.

Erica deflated slightly. “Still, the snuggling wasn’t like when you and I cuddle and watch cartoons, so I ask again, _what the fuck are you thinking?_ ”

“It’s nothing, Erica! It’s just friend stuff. Because Stiles and I are _friends._ Emphasis on the _fuh-reinds._ It IS like when you and I snuggle, or when Jacks and I wrestle, or when Gerry falls asleep on me.” Derek could feel a slight blush.

“And does he fall asleep on you often?”

“What?” Derek wasn’t confused, but pretending to be would buy him at least half a minute to figure out how (and if) he was going to answer that question.

“Look, you can’t pull that shit with me, Derek. Other than Thanksgiving, has he slept on you often?”

“Erica, I swear, nothing is going on. We’re friends, we hang out, occasionally it happens that one of us will crash, but it’s not like that, he and I are not like that, and we’ll _never_ be like that.” Derek was aware that his hardened tone and the conviction coloring his voice were meant more for him than for her. He was also aware of the little tiny nagging pain that stabbed him right underneath the heart when he emphasized the word ‘never’.

“Look, I just don’t want to see you hurt, and if he’s trying to start something with you while the Isaac thing is happeni-“

“He’s not trying to start anything, this is just how we are, and that’s that.”

“Der- if you need me.” Erica looked sympathetic, a little crest-fallen, like she wanted to say more, but then her phone buzzed audibly and she pulled it out to answer. “They landed. Boyd says they’re tired, but safe with the parents.”

“Good.” Derek paused, wondering if the importance of his next question was worth the probably onslaught of pain. “Uh, did he say if Isaac texted Stiles?” Derek asked, then cringed. Maybe asking if Isaac contacted Stiles, after having a long conversation about how there was nothing going on, was not helping his case any. Okay yeah, it wasn’t helping his case at all. But somehow he found he didn’t care- Derek just didn’t want to keep picking up the pieces each time Isaac broke Stiles a little more. Totally a good friend hope, that boyfriends treat each other right so you don’t have to intervene. Right. And if he keeps telling himself that, maybe he’ll believe it one day.

Erica shrugged, and walked to her room, clearly ignoring the incriminating implications of what he’d just said. She called over her shoulder. “I told him to have Isaac check in if he hasn’t.”

Derek debated texting Stiles, but it wasn’t his place, really. He knew that, he knew a lot of what he’s done over the last month fell in the ‘not his place’ category. He decided just to head to bed, _resolutely_ decided, once and for all, no questions, that Stiles was just a flirt, that there was nothing going on, and that it was all just him.

With that being decided, he pulled off his shoes and jeans, flopped on to his bed, and groaned as he pulled the covers up over his head. The whole not-thing with Stiles might just be in his head, but that doesn’t mean the situation didn’t call for a good old-fashioned cover cave. And hey, maybe it would keep Erica from attacking him tomorrow morning.

“Derek it’s Christmas! Wake up! It’s time to go!” Derek moaned and pulled his pillow over his face. So much for his layer of fluffy down comforter protection.

“Derek we need to get going, what if Santa brought us something,  and Gerry’s waiting and Derek c’mon, I got your glasses and your coffee and you can stay in your jammies and DEREK!!!!”

Erica grabbed the pillow and viciously yanked until she’d ripped it out of his hands. And oh _fantastic,_ she had a can of Monster in one hand.

“Erica, that didn’t come from my fridge, who the freaking hell gave you one? We talked about this. And whyyyyyy are you waking me up so early?” Derek moaned.

“Excuse you, Stiles tucked one in my purse, it’s just one of our many fantastic and hilarious inside jokes and you just wouldn’t understand. You know,” she said, putting a finger to her lips and pretending to think, “he and I have inside jokes!  He’s my friend too, and he never licks my fingers, just saying, though he does come along when I bra shop. But Derek, that’s not what is important, what’s important is that it’s Christmas morning, and there’s presents Derek, we need to go to Dad’s now because Derek, presents.”

Derek was really just waiting for Erica to pass out from lack of oxygen. One day she would take on one too many words and just keel over in the middle of her sentence. And just how much time are she and Stiles spending together? Has Erica always been like this and he just hadn’t noticed, had the stick in his ass really been shoved that far up there that he hadn’t noticed her inane tendency to play fast and loose with _breathing_ while speaking, or was this a new development since she’d split with Matt?

“Erica, do me a favor, and calm the fuck down, then get out of my room so I can get dressed, and if you make me a sandwich we can go right away.” Derek was surprised (and maybe a bit impressed with his newfound ability to make her finally do what he asked) when she just got up and left. Right as he was uncovering himself the door swung open, and she shouted, “Check your phone, the damn thing has been beeping all morning.” Right. Of course it had.

And oh, look he had eight missed text messages. At eight a.m. Great. Awesome even.

Scott: Merry Xmas dude.

Scott: Did Isaac text Stiles last night?

Stiles: Happy hohoho day, DerBear

Allison: Merry Christmas hun, remember, don’t eat too much at breakfast, spring training soon enough

Allison: Ignore that, eat what you want.

Scott: Why does Stiles look upset

Scott: Were you being an ass?

Scott: Did Boyd and them make it in last night?

Derek sighed, rattled off a quick text to Scott that yes, Isaac had arrived safely, mentally kicked himself for not sending Stiles a message last night, then finally managed to find some clothes to throw on and get dressed.

He sleepily wandered into the living room, coffee in hand and looked around. He had to laugh at the bones wrapped in the comics with a crudely drawn pawprint on the tag. “I’m assuming that’s from Fred?” He asked, smiling at the giggle Erica gave as a reply.

“I called Dad; he said it was fine if we brought it for Sasha. She’s been in Gerry’s room most the night, really being good for a young pup. Not sure you’ll even get her back.” Erica yawned, leading Derek to wonder how much sleep she got, and how much of her energy a few minutes ago was from those disgusting energy drinks she loved. “Alright then, I’ve got the pizza and the bag of your gifts, now let’s head on out.”

The drive to Pete and Kate’s place was relatively quiet. Derek thought about asking why Erica stayed with him, instead of at her place, but without Boyd, and Jackson undoubtedly at Lydia’s, he couldn’t blame her. Had she not volunteered to stay with him, he would have insisted. Derek was still terrified of something happening to Erica. He’d already lost so much family, and Matt had never sat well with him.  They were all (well, he, Peter and Jackson, although probably Boyd as well) terrified of her just disappearing one day, her calls no longer being answered or returned, and Matt, being the unhinged ass that he is, not being any help.

Upon their arrival at the house, he braced himself for Gerry and Sasha greeting him. God only knows what sort of shenanigans they’d gotten up to. Really though, he’d be honestly lucky if G-Man even let him have Sasha back.

But, before he could get out of the car, there were text notifications. From both of their phones. At the same time. This was not going to be good. He swore his normally cheerful text bing sounded angry. Could texts sound angry? He and Erica both checked their phones, and he was certain the frown he saw on her face was mirrored on his own.

“What’s yours?”

“Scott’s worried because Stiles is sulking, yours?”

“Boyd letting me know he just finished yelling at Isaac, because falling asleep on the couch with Danny was evidently more important than texting Stiles.”

Derek sighed. It wasn’t even 8 yet. Jesus. “Okay, here’s the deal, we’re going to go in there, and we’re going to spend time with our family, and if at all possible, we’re going to avoid talking about this in front of Gerry. The G-Man _adores_ Stiles, and I don’t want him upset because we’re…Stiles, because _Stiles_ , is upset.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Erica yawned. Derek had read plenty of stories in his life where it said a character yawned, instead of speaking, but until this moment, he never actually witnessed it. Of course, he’d also read plenty of stories where the main character pined endlessly for one another, everyone around them knowing, neither of them realizing it was mutual and more than just a flirtation among friends, until one day they both wised up and realized that they were hopelessly in love and where the hell had that come from and why the _fuck_ was he thinking about this right now? Focus, Derek. Focus.

“Erica, how much did you sleep last night? Are you going to be able to stay awake?”

“Hmm? Won’t be an issue.  Just didn’t sleep well last night, and I only had one Monster in my purse, but Jay will be here any moment and then I’ll be fine.”

Derek could feel his eyebrows moving to live on the bridge of his nose. “What does Jackson showing up have to do with anything?”

“Just, seriously, we’ll stand out here for a minute, Jackson will get here, we’ll be good to go.” Erica mumbled, and then snarled, as her phone binged again.

Right as Derek was getting ready to ask what is was this time, Jackson pulled up. He got out of his car, tossed a can of Monster at Erica, and pulled out _his_ phone.

“Seriously?” Derek asked.

“What, I got a text from Boyd asking me to grab one for her.” Jackson said. “Fucking hell! What is going on with Scott and Stiles this morning?”

“What’s the matter?” Erica asked.

“Lydia has gotten, and I quote, ‘a shit ton’ of texts from Allison and from John; Stiles and Scott aren’t taking the marriage news well.” Jackson replied, complete with one-handed airquotes.

“Well, they just got engaged, the boys are still processing.” Erica said, as Derek’s phone binged.

Derek looked down to see a text from Scott:’ NEW YEARS THEY ARE GETTING MARRIED NEW YEARS EVE WHO EVEN DOES THAT!’ Oh, well, that explains their reaction, then.

“Oh shit.”

“Wow Derek, that was really eloquent, it’s a good thing you have an agent to manage your public image so you don’t unleash _that_ on the world, oh wait, your agent is the one freaking out right now.” Jackson was smirking. Like an asshole. He was a smirking asshole. God if they weren’t related…

“Jackson, I will beat that grin right off your face. Don’t tempt me, I’ll totally text Lydia about the month after your first break up when you slept using her t-shirt as a pillow case!”

“Derek! Jackson! Are you idiots going to stand out there and argue all morning, or get in here so we can actually practice the lovely Christmas tradition of giving gifts?” Peter yelled from the doorway. “Good morning Princess.” He said while hugging Erica.

“Hey I resent that!” Derek said, walking to his uncle and hugging him.

“Well then, good morning to you, too, Princess, I didn’t realize that’s what did it for you! Remind me to alert the presses.”

Derek was certain that had Peter not been holding him, he would’ve planted flat on his ass he was laughing so hard. Even now it was a little bit of a danger.

“But…Daddy, you always told me _I_ was your princess!” Jackson wailed before tossing himself at Derek and Peter.

That did it. All three men fell on the ground laughing. Erica came over and helped them up and head into the house, but not before muttering ‘Too many damn princesses in one freaking castle.”

“DEREK! DEREK YOU’RE FINALLY HERE! DEREK I TAUGHT SASHA TO SHAKE HANDS! DEREKIWANNAPUPPYCANYOUANDSTILESGIVEMEONE!!!!”

And that was all the warning Derek had to brace himself for an armful of giggling child and yapping puppy. He was vaguely aware of Jackson and Peter skirting around him, and he was too aware of Erica walking past and whispering “Dude, even the five year old sees it, dumbass.”

“Hey G-Man! I missed you buddy!”

“Derek,” Gerry laughed, “You saw me when you brought over Sasha. She is such a good puppy Derek, and she can shake hands now!”

“Well, let me put you down, and get the gifts by the tree, and then you can give Sasha her present from Fred and show me her new trick, alright?” Once Gerry released him, Derek got situated, said a quick hello to Kate, and sat on the floor. Sasha immediately jumped up into his lap. Scratching her behind the ears, he sighed when his, Jackson, and Erica’s phones all binged again.

“Nope! No, none of that, phones are turned off or set to vibrate only, and they are not to be checked constantly. I do not want family Christmas being overrun by phones!” Kate snapped. “You can check them now, but please, after that can it wait till after presents?” She softened a little.

“Yes Miss Kate.” All three of them chimed, then started giggling at how perfectly timed it was.

“Lydia said that St-“Jackson started, to be sushed immediately by Erica, who shot a pointed look between him and Gerry.

“Uhm, Lydia said that her _situation_ was not happy about how _someone else_ won’t be home til after New Year’s now.” Jackson gave Erica a look that Derek was all too familiar with, having known them his entire life. It was the ‘see, I can TOO be good at this, look.

“Well, Boyd said he’s coming home tomorrow, alone…Derek?”

Derek looked and saw he had three texts.

Scott: Dude, John wants Stiles to be his best man. Stiles looks pissed.

Isaac: Derek, I can’t be home til after New Year’s, keep an eye on Stiles for me, he seemed off

Scott: Stiles is being really quiet.

“It’s…fine. We’ll figure it out later.” Derek said, setting his phone to vibrate, and again shooting a look at Gerry to make sure he hasn’t caught on. When Kate and Peter noticed, he mouthed ‘later’.

“So, G-Man, show me the shake trick.” Derek said, handing over the comic-wrapped bones.

“Ah, look Sasha, I told you Fred missed you while you were gone, he got you a treat!” Gerry carefully, almost lovingly unwrapped the bones, taking on and looking very serious as he said ‘Sasha, Shake!” He then took his right hand, and lifted her right paw. “See, didja see Derek, she shook!”

Derek laughed, and hugged Gerry around the shoulders. “I think it might need a litle bit more work, little dude, but it’s a really good start.”

“Gifts! Let’s do it!” Peter said.

Everyone circled up on the floor, and Peter handed out gifts. Jackson got photography equipment, tickets for a car show, and a membership to Peter’s country club.

Erica was delighted with the books on automotive repair. “You guys! I know that I was going to do social work, but I never got my degree…I started looking into things that I could do with my hands, things that made me feel strong….” She trailed off, and Derek was pleased to see Jackson snuggle her some.

Derek gently ripped into his gifts (because he was a careful unwrapper, not a Tasmanian Devil), and laughed. “Really, you got me Stiles’ stand-up and movies?”

“Yeah, Gerry suggested it, he said you should know what your friends do.” Peter said, handing him another set of boxes. Was there a smirk on his uncle’s face? It looked like a smirk, With Peter you never really knew, but Derek was about 90% certain that was a smirk. Which was fantastic, now his entire family was conspiring against him.

“ _Transformers, Star Trek_ , and _Adventure Time_?” Derek asked.

“Yep, I picked those all out myself, d’ya like them Der?”

Derek ruffled Gerry’s hair. “They’re perfect little dude. I bet you want to watch some with me when we’re done, right?”

Gerry nodded. “ _Adventure Time! Adventure Time!_ I can be Finn the Human and you can be Jake the Dog.”

Derek laughed lightly. “Sounds good G-Man and why don’t we see what you have?”

Gerry was a flurry of flying paper, squeals, and hand clapping as he unwrapped Transformers, and Lego, and books and clothes and a stuffed malamute puppy that Stiles had sent over for him. “I’m gonna name it Fred Too! I’ll get him a collar and a name tag and everthing!”

That is when Derek jumped, because his phone vibrated almost a full minute with incoming text notifications. He shot a look at Peter who gave him the okay, and reached down to grab his phone from his pocket and peek at the screen.

And that is when his heart sank.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The holidays are partly to blame in this delay.   
> Katieepretzel is a damn fine beta, damned fine.  
> all standard disclaimers apply

_Still Christmas 2010, Still in recollection…poor Derek_

Jesus Christ! 15 new messages? Wait no, more coming in while the phone is still in his freaking hand. Derek wasn’t a moron, he know they all weren’t “Merry Christmas” or “good game, man” because well, everyone he knew had already sent their holiday greeting texts and the season hadn’t started yet.

Something catastrophic had to be happening for his phone to blow up like this on Christmas, and judging from the first text, it had nothing to do with his career and everything to do with something he’d rather not deal with. Well that was a blatant lie, wasn’t it? He’d love to deal with it, love to deal with the implications and the consequences of something he wasn’t even sure was happening, was going to happen, that the other party even _wanted_ to happen.

It wasn’t his place, though. He knew it, Erica knew it, hell, even _Jackson_ knew it. This thing going on right now? Whatever it was, it wasn’t his fight.

New message from **Scott** :

Stiles broke his phone.

New message from **Scott** :

He threw it at the garage door

New message from **Scott** :

Well, he went outside first

New message from **Scott** :

I mean, how else would he throw his phone at the garage door?

New message from **Scott** :

Good thing Mom bought him an upgrade for Christmas

New message from **Scott** :

Now he’s swearing

New message from **Scott:**

A Lot

New message from **Scott** :

I don’t think I’m old enough to know those words, or that they fit together that way

New message from **Isaac** :

Stiles isn’t responding to me, can you check on him?

New message from **Isaac** :

He said I should ‘just have fun with the hula’

New message from **Isaac** :

What does that even mean?

New message from **Scott** :

He is swearing and bitching about scripts and Hula dancing gods

New message from **Scott** :

Mom and John are freaking out, they don’t know what to do

New message from **Scott** :

Allison went to talk to him

New message from **Lydia** :

Do you know why Stiles is pacing up and down Scott’s driveway?

New message from **Jackass** :

Lydia wants to know why Stiles is in Scott’s driveway, she told me to ask you

New message from **Jackass** :

Why does she think you would know?

New message from **Jackass** :

I see you on your phone, don’t ignore me

New message from **Jackass** :

I thought something was going on last night, but was all ‘naw, Der wouldn’t play another man’s man like that!’

New message from **Jackass** :

Are you being a dick?

New message from **Princess E** :

Stop glaring at Jackson

New message from **Jackass** :

I’ll tell Lydia on you…Dick

New message from **Princess E** :

Seriously

New message from **Princess E** :

Yeah, so glare harder at him, that’s not obvious :-/

New message from **Peterbilt** :

If the three you don’t stop texting I am taking away your phones

New message from **Princess E** :

Glaring at dad isn’t better

New message from **Peterbilt** :

Derek, you better have changed my name in your phone, I’m not a truck.

New message from **Queen K** :

You made me go get my phone. Why don’t you take Sasha for a walk and you can text people then, yes?

“Sorry Kate!” Derek said. He looked to see Erica, Jackson and Peter all wearing slightly ashamed expressions.  “G-Man! Can you set up _Adventure Time_ while I go deal with something quick? Maybe get Fred Too settled in for some TV watching. I’ll be back really soon, I promise.”

“Are you taking Sasha with you?”

“Yeah, little dude, I am. She could use a walk; work off that delicious bone she just ate.” Derek said, hoping the kid wouldn’t argue. He loves Gerry, and he gets that this is too mature a situation for Gerry to be exposed to.

“Gerry, don’t forget the cocoa.” Kate added, confusing the hell out of Derek.

“I s’pose that’s okay.” Gerry sighed, “Momma said I could have some cocoa after presents, and I can’t drink it in front of the TV anymore after the last time I had cocoa and fell asleep and spilled it all over the floor, so Derek, take your time.” Gerry looked and sounded so solemn that Derek was hard pressed not to laugh.

“Hey, Erica, Jackson, either of you care to join me for Sasha’s romp outside?” Derek asked, while giving a look he thought (hoped, really, considering who he was dealing with) purveyed that it wasn’t a question, it was a command.

“Daddy…Derek’s been mean to me all morning, he woke me up early, and made me make him breakfast and –“

“Erica, I don’t care. Go out and play with your cousin, help him with whatever existential crisis he’s having this time, and please, don’t shit with me. I know you dragged him kicking and screaming from his bed. You are my daughter, after all.” Peter laughed.

Jackson snorted and Erica kicked his leg. “Jackson, c’mon, you can call Lydia!” she mockingly singsonged.

Derek collected Sasha’s harness and leash and got her ready to go while Erica downed half a mug’s worth of coffee (great, a side of overly caffeinated Erica, just what he needed with this great big helping of “shit I don’t want to, and really shouldn’t be dealing with, thank you so very fucking much Isaac for being a moron for the holidays, I really appreciate it, bro.”) and Jackson whined about wanting cocoa too. Kate handed him a travel mug, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and muttered something under her breath about only having signed up for one small child.

Jackson, at least, had the good sense to look sheepish and to wait until they were outside to complain about not getting the little marshmallows.

“Seriously, we’ve _all_ explained to you, the little marshmallows gum up the lid of the travel mug. You are such a baby.” Erica snorted.

“Yeah, _I’m_ the baby. I’m not the one with the bunny slippers!”

“Goddammit Jackson! I told you those were a gift from the coach!” Derek growled.

“Dude, I think he was talking about _my_ bunny slippers. Where the hell did he find bunny slippers for your big-ass feet?” Erica asked around her laughter.

“His wife makes them, they’re warm and nice and why am I even discussing this with you? I’m calling Scott to see if I can figure out what’s up. Jackson, you take Lydia, and Erica-“

“I know, I know, drag Boyd further into this soap opera that is your life. Seriously, stop being a dick, either back the fuck off, or get with more hand licking.”

“Wait, hand licking? “Jackson asked.

“Just shut up and call your woman.” Derek replied, glaring at Erica.

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and dialed Scott.

“This is McCall.”

“No shit Sherlock, if I call your phone, there’s a really good chance that whomever answers is gonna be a McCall. Care to tell me what’s up?” Derek rolled his eyes, and shuffled he leash to his other hand, so he wasn’t balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear anymore.

“Oh my god! Derek, dude…you don’t even know, you have no idea!”

“Scott, I know that I don’t know, because you haven’t _told_ me.” Derek looked at Erica with a ‘see what I deal with?’ expression on his face.

“Ok, so here’s the deal. Stiles was okay when he got here, then Mom and John told us about the surprise New Year’s Eve wedding, then the texting started, he started swearing, went outside, threw his phone at my garage, swore some more, and when Allison went outside to talk to him, he threw her cocoa against the garage door.” Scott paused to suck in a deep breath, “Derek, he _took her mug from her hands_ and threw it. A PREGNANT WOMAN’S COCOA, DEREK!”

Derek sighed. Taking any sort of chocolate, beverage or otherwise, was asking for a painful and drawn out death from an Allison without child; he can’t even imagine the hellfire she was restraining now. “Do you know what set him off?” Derek asked.

“I can answer that!” Erica shouted.

“Scott, can I put you on speaker?” Derek didn’t even wait for an answer, just set his phone to speaker and held it in between him and Erica, who still had her phone to her ear.

“Okay, Boyd says that Isaac has ‘business’” Derek restrained a laugh at her use of air quotes while holding a phone between her shoulder and ear, but that’s Erica for you,  “that is keeping him out east for a while, that at best, Isaac will get a weekend home before they start filming in two weeks.”

“Oh man, so is Danny coming home with Boyd then?” Scott asked.

“Scott, you are so lucky you can’t see the look Derek’s giving his phone right now.” Jackson laughed, finally paying attention.

“No Scottie,” Erica explained in her eerily unnerving voice she reserved for only the stupidest of questions, the one that reminded them of a sadistic kindergarten teacher, “Danny is going to be keeping Isaac company.”

“Oh shit!”

“Oh…shit.” Derek echoed Scott.

“So Lydia said the last time Stiles got really mad at a boyfriend, he broke all of his dishes, plus half of hers.” Jackson said.

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Scott said. “And remember when he walked in on the ex before that?”

“Scott, Lydia can’t hear you, and we didn’t know Stiles then.” Derek said.

“When he was touring during college, he surprised a boyfriend. The asshole had a girl over, was all over her. Stiles did a decent amount of damage to his motel room. He ended up having to borrow money from Lydia to pay for the damages.” Scott explained.

“Wait, does Stiles have a history of violence?” Erica asked, giving a concerned look to Derek.

“No, no…he’ never hurt people or animals. Wouldn’t even think about coming close. That’s not really what it’s about….it’s just throwing things…against walls.”

Derek would readily admit he understood the therapeutic nature of throwing something. He’s a pitcher, after all. But he can’t really reconcile the phone-and dishes-breaking Stiles with the man he met at the charity event 6 months ago. Stiles isn’t athletic, so it must just be a rage thing. Another thing Derek gets. Derek’s willing to bet that the throwing things started when Stiles’ mom got sick, just like Derek’s own anger issues started after the fire.  Derek doesn’t throw things, no, he runs, runs until his legs give out or he hurts all over or a friend makes him stop. Admittedly, it’s probably not all that more healthy than throwing things.

“Lydia said the best bet is to bring him things that won’t hurt anyone, and let him tire himself out. He’ll swear more and when he’s crying, it’s all good.” Jackson said.

“Scott, how do you not know this? You’re supposed to be his best friend…for that matter, how do John and Melissa not know this?” Derek asked.

“Lydia always took him away when he got upset, said she would make it better. I assumed it was ice cream and girl talk or something, not throwing shit.” Scott mumbled.

“Lydia said if you made a sexist comment, she was gonna have to remind you of how hard drummers can hit. And now she’s reminding you that Stiles is a drummer. And says you are the worst best friend.” Jackson was trying not to laugh. The audible snorts that escaped from behind his hand were pretty obvious though. Derek glared at him, somehow hoping to convey ‘shut the fuck up’ between his eyes and eyebrows.

“So, Scott, that’s what’s up with Stiles, think you can handle it?” Derek asked, clicking the phone off of speaker.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks.”

“Great. Call or text if you need anything, but it sounds like it should be under control now. Just, dude, don’t let Melissa give him that new phone until _after_ he’s worn himself out.” Derek hung up, not waiting for a reply.

Derek cleaned up after Sasha, and then stood there, looking at his cousins. “Erica, other than Isaac being a douche, is there anything I need to know?”

“Nope. Boyd knows you’re a good person. You aren’t a cheat, you only have the interests of your _friends_ at heart.” Erica smirked.

“Lydia said you need to stop being a dick…Dick.” Jackson added.

“Seriously, I am not trying to get involved with Stiles, you two know that, right?” Derek hated the uncertainty in his voice.

Jackson held up a finger, making Derek wait while he got off the phone with Lydia. “Dude, I will tease you about being a dick for the rest of our life, you’re the closest thing to a big brother I will ever has, unless Erica admits she has bigger balls than both of us.” Jackson snorted again. “I know you’re a decent man. I know that you wouldn’t _try_ to ruin a relationship.” Jackson paused, only to paste on a cocky smirk and gesture widely to himself, “But you and I, we’re everyone’s type.”

“Oh my god!” Erica stamped her foot. “I _so_ have the biggest balls in this family!”

Derek doubled over, barking out laughter.

“Der, I’m going to be honest. It’s gonna hurt.” Erica sighed, “I know that you keep telling us, and yourself, that nothing’s going on. Something _IS_ though. I don’t know what it is, I don’t even know if you and Stiles know what it is…but it’s there. You owe it to yourself, to Isaac, to Stiles to just put it on hold until Stiles figures out what he wants. He is still with Isaac, Isaac is still with him.” Erica walked over and wrapped her arms around Derek. “Even if Isaac is screwing Danny, which I don’t think is happening, even if Stiles were to throw himself naked at you yelling CATCH! Until you know that there is nothing between the two of them, you need to back off. You are not that guy, don’t become that guy.”

“She has a point. Also, dude, you’d crush him, have you seen how skinny his ass is?” Ah, Jackson, ever the pragmatist.

Erica insisted Stiles could hold his own, after all, size isn’t an indication of strength and agility, and would Jackson like her to prove it?

And then they started bickering. About who kicked who’s ass when they were six and seven. Seriously?

Derek flipped them both off and just hurried into the house.

“Shhhhhhh!” Kate sushed, as soon as he walked in. “Gerry just passed out, please Der, let him be. He was up at like, 4 this morning. Peter has assured me the last few years that this is normal for the wee Hale children but I’m just not a morning person.”

“It’s ok. I can hold off on movie watching. Do you need me to move him?”

“No, he’s sleeping on Peter who’s sleeping on the couch. Now, what you can do for me is brew some coffee.”

“I can do that, Kate.” Derek said, reaching for the already hot tea kettle. “French press okay? I figure I can just make enough for the two of us, Jackson has his coffee and Erica, just, no.” Derek was silent while he poured the water over the grounds, getting the cream and sugar ready. He poured out a mug for himself, then one for Kate. “Need anything else?”

“You can tell me what’s so important it took over family Christmas.” Kate said, taking a sip and visibly relaxing. “This is good, by the way, thank you.”

Derek started going through the cupboards, looking for something to eat with his coffee, conveniently turning his face away from Kate.

“It’s…complicated. I guess…Stiles is having a hard time, and everyone expects me to know why, or know how to make it better, or be involved, and I just don’t get it.”

“Really?” Kate sounded incredulous.

“Really! I just started being his friend. Maybe it’s because he’s with Isaac, who I used to…I dunno, date I guess? Maybe it’s because of Fred and Sasha, people think we share deep secrets while at the dog park. I just don’t see what the big deal is, why I’m suddenly supposed to be the Stiles Whisperer when there’s Scott and Lydia and, fuck, everyone else who’s known him longer, known him better!” Derek was speaking in a harsh whisper by the end, finally having turned back to Kate.

 “You really don’t get it, or you don’t want to admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit, Kate! He and I are _friends_ and I don’t know why everyone is questioning that!” Derek whisper-yelled.

“Maybe you need to look into why everyone is questioning it, and why you are avoiding the answer, honey.” Derek started to say something, but Kate waved him off, laughing sadly. “I knew your uncle for years before he and I started dating. Years, Derek! YEARS that I wasted, because we were just friends. Just friends who managed to get knocked up. Are you _that_ sort of friend with Stiles?”

“Kate, don’t be ridiculous, Stiles isn’t getting pregnant.” Derek deflected, taking a deep draw of his coffee.

“No, he can’t, you’re right about that. He can just what? Make you crazy, make you think about him at odd moments, make you walk away from a family holiday to make sure he’s alright?” Kate asked, draining her mug.

“Kate…it’s complicated.”

“Yeah, note you didn’t deny anything, though.” Kate smirked , knowing look on her face. She walked away, out of the kitchen, leaving Derek to consider what she’d said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really, really hard  
> katieepretzel, thank you for being awesome  
> crayoladinosaurs, thank you for kicking my ass in the gentlest of ways  
> everyone who is still with me even though I suck at updating, thank you

_Christmas Day, 2010_

It was shortly after noon when Gerry woke up and immediately subjected Derek to 6 hours of _Adventure Time_. Derek had managed to negotiate for a five minute break ever hour, (Gerry times this with a stopwatch Peter had given him, lord only knows why Peter had a stopwatch laying around) which was just long enough for Derek to grab a cup of coffee now and then. After the second break, Kate had helpfully started adding booze. Bless her.

Derek had to admit that he’d never seen Gerry so still and quiet, though. Yes he was laughing and bouncing, and being his normal Gerry self (which now that he thought about it was a lot like Stiles’ normal self, and goddammit he had to stop bringing everything back to Stiles), but he wasn’t talking, and he wasn’t running around (thank God!).

About two hours into the marathon, Derek received a text from Stiles saying simply ‘talk later, I’m fine tho’.  Other than Stiles being fine, Derek wondered what that even meant. Did Scott tell Stiles about calling Derek? Did Lydia? Why and to what purpose? Maybe he sent the text to everyone, Derek didn’t know, and he just didn’t have it in him to care.

Okay yeah, well that was a blatant lie, wasn’t it? All Derek could do was care, but he was trying his hardest not to be bothered with WHY he cared.

Derek adored his family but being around them was exhausting sometimes. Gerry was a perpetual motion machine, only exceptions being sleeping and eating, and most of the time he wasn’t even still for those. Peter was _always_ watching, always picking apart everything that was said and done and _always_ looking for the truth of the situation, even when it was boldly presented to him. Granted, Peter was a sports psychiatrist, so that’s what he got paid to do. Kate was lovely, but sometimes way too superior for being only four years older than he was.

Jackson and Erica, well, they were his cousins, his best friends, and epic pains in his ass. Every time they’d take a text or a call he could _feel_ them looking at him, feel as their gazes settles on him, appraising, trying to figureout how deep he had gotten into a situation without even trying.

At around four, Erica piped up from out of nowhere. “Oh, hey, Dad? Stiles made dinner for us.” Huh. He’s forgotten about the pizza Stiles had put together for them. Just as well though, they’d all spent the lion’s share of the day snacking and attempting to figure out the ridiculous assembly instructions that came with most of Gerry’s new toys.

“Huh? Well, that’s unexpected, good thing we never plan anything for dinner.” Peter Fumbled with the honest to god book of instruction in front of him. What toy was he even assembling now? “Dear daughter of mine, may I ask what are we having?” Peter asked, his rarely worn glasses sliding down his nose as he squinted. Ah, Lego instructions. So _not_ Gerry’s toy then.

“He made us pizza. Dad, it’s just like Auntie’s pasta, and I don’t know how, and it’s so good and it just, it tastes like home.” Erica’s voice got softer and softer as she spoke.

“I’m…kitchen, heating the pizza up…alright.” Derek muttered before almost sprinting into the kitchen. He just couldn’t be in there right now. Once he’d settled his hands, gripping the counter and hanging his head low above the sink, he heard footsteps behind him moments before he felt a large hand on his shoulder.

“You okay there?” Peter quietly asked.

“Yeah, yeah I am. We talked about them, last night. Stiles…he lost his mom, he gets it. Not the same way we do, but he gets it. Goddammit Peter! Gerry will never know them, neither will Boyd, Lydia, Sti-“ Derek choked on the name.

“He’s your friend. Scott, Allison, their baby, none of them will know your parents or Laura, but they will know you, how they shaped you. They’ll see bits and pieces in Jackson and Erica.” Peter stopped and cast a glance towards the living room, where his son was still enraptured by Finn and Jake. “Gerry reminds me so much of her, your mom. He has a clarity that’s totally her.”

Derek set the oven and turned around to lean against the counter, facing Peter. “Dad always said that you and mom were the things that kept him level. He hated how much Whittemore Laura had in her, but he loved it too, because she wasn’t hot headed like he and I were. When we’d fight, she’d just holler for Mom. And then she’d come in, all cold and calculating, telling Laura to remember who she was, that she wasn’t raised by wolves. She’d tell me to go help Dad with the lawn, or one of the cars, anything physical to work it out of my system.” He paused to check the oven to see how the preheating was coming.

“Peter, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about them, wonder if they’d be happy, if they’d be proud, if they’d want me to settle down, and I just…” He stopped talking, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, trust me I know. There’s no way I would’ve raised Jackson and Erica without your parents. Do you think being a single dad was easy? Your mom and Laura were a godsend when it came to Erica, fucking hell, like I knew anything about menstruation or talking to girls about sex?” Peter was open in a way that Derek doesn’t remember seeing before.

“Mom would know what to do about Stiles,” he whispered.

“No, she wouldn’t,” Peter whispered back. “She would’ve told you to look at the situation and decide what was happening, what you want. She would’ve listened and made you realize that you already know what to do.” Peter sighed. “Now, speaking of this pizza, what’s so special about it?”

“It’s sliced sausage, roasted red pepper, spinach, provolone and feta on whole wheat.” He spun to the fridge, grabbed the pizza out and showed it to his uncle before popping it in the oven and setting the timer. “The combination of provolone and feta is what makes it hers. There’s plenty of sausage and pepper dishes, but combining those two cheeses is so…. _Mom_. Stiles said his mom made a dish just like it, and I just…I wonder if they knew each other or if it was coincidence or what. Peter…I don’t know what I’m doing here. I just don’t.”

“Thing is, Der…I don’t think any of us do when it’s something real, something important. Fuck, look at me and Kate, it took her getting pregnant for me to realize how much she meant to me. And then how many more years was it before I even proposed? I was scared, scared shitless.

I’d already raised two kids alone, and here I was relying on someone to stick around for a third without your mom to help me, without Laura to babysit, and you having a career?” Peter cracked his neck. “Then my baby girl goes and marries that asshole, and I thought I was gonna lose her. And Derek, you do realize that Lydia, LYDIA might end up marrying my boy?” Peter sighed.

“Shit, Lydia might be a part of the family one day. Lydia _and_ Kate _and_ Erica at family dinners. Bet you’re glad I won’t be bringing any more over-bearing women in, huh?”

Peter doubled over laughing. “No!” he gasped. “Just a neurotic comic if you two ever figure shit out. Oh god, we are so screwed Der.” Shit. _Stiles_ might be a part of the family one day. Shit. Derek wasn’t laughing anymore. He could be _here_ , watching cartoons with Gerry, sneaking Bailey’s into his coffee to make it through six consecutive hours of the same show, conspiring with Erica, helping Derek mock Jackson, making dinner, sitting down with them, cracking jokes over sausage and pepper pizza, telling that story, the one with the clown nose and the turkey hat…and now Derek was laughing again.

“Hey, what so funny in here?” Erica asked as she walked in.

“Absolutely nothing, Ricky.” Derek giggled.

“Dereeeeeek, you know I hate when you call me Ricky.” Erica pouted.

“So very sorry, _Princess E_.”

“Better. So…Jackson said he’d bring me home after we’re done if you want to head out, Der. You look rough.” Erica lowered her voice. “Really, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“How’s Gerry looking?” Derek asked.

Peter stuck his head around the edge of the doorway, “Looks like he’ll sleep if his favorite cousin isn’t here watching shows with him.”

“Alright then, let me get my stuff. The pizza comes out in 10 minutes, and thank you, Peter.” Derek said while sliding out of the kitchen. He padded over to where Gerry was slumped between the arm and the back of the couch, eyes half closed. “Little dude, I’m going to go home and rest, okay? I’ll be over later in the week to play with you some more.” He hugged Gerry, who nodded at him, bleary eyed and exhausted. “Bye Kate, Jay.” Clapping his thigh to get Sasha’s attention, he gathered up the rest of his stuff, and quietly left.

Hours after getting back home found him in the same spot he was within fifteen minutes of walking in the door -sitting on the couch, beer in one hand and Sasha’s head under the other. He was exhausted, he was confused, and thinking about the last few Christmases.

He appreciated the conversations he had with his family and with his friends over the last two days, but it felt different this year. Everyone was pairing off, he had Erica back, he had the Stiles situation to figure out, and they all seemed to add their two cents, whether he wanted them to or not.  As much as he told Peter he didn’t know what to do, he does know what his mom would tell him, and that’s the problem. “Derbear,” She’d say, and lord knows that Stiles calls him that isn’t lost in him, “You’re a good boy, and you need to follow your heart while making sure not to break anyone else’s.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it? There’s no way to do this without hurting someone he cares about, including himself.

“Well, Sasha,” he said, setting down his beer, picking up his silent phone again for the millionth time, looking for a text from Stiles or someone else updating him on Stiles, “We haven’t heard anything girl, do you think we should text to check on Fred?” Sasha barked a reply. “Alright, alright, walk first, then we’ll talk.” Derek climbed up off of the couch while Sasha bounded down, clipped her leash to her, and opened the door.

“Hey, am I interrupting any plans?” Stiles. Stiles was at his door. And so was Fred. In the dark, unannounced. He couldn’t read his face, couldn’t tell if he was sad or angry or frustrated…Stiles was just blank.

“I was just taking Sasha for a walk,do you want to come with, or should we put her and Fred out in the yard?” Derek managed not to stutter, still shocked that Stiles and Fred were standing on the other side of his door.

“Backyard’s good.” Derek didn’t know how to react to such a subdued Stiles other than to comply. He just wasn’t the person he’d come to know and…like. No energetic bounding, no words coming out a mile a minute. Nothing like normal Stiles.

“Sasha door!” Derek barked, unclipping her. She immediately ran to the sliding door leading to the yard, Fred yapping at her heels. Derek slid the door open, and let them out, checking to make sure ethe gate was closed across the back entry.

Stiles was still standing in the middle of the living room, oddly looking a little lost. “You don’t have a tree?”

Right. Looking for a Christmas tree. “Kind of. Follow me.” Derek walked through his home to his bedroom, making sure Stiles followed.

Derek could see the familiar soft glow emanating from underneath his closed bedroom door. He smiled lightly and pushed it open; knowing that Stiles would enjoy what was inside.

“Dude! That is either the coolest or the saddest thing I have ever seen.” Stiles exclaimed upon seeing the lights tacked to the wall in the shape of an evergreen tree over Derek’s bed. There was even tinsel strung across it, with small, shimmery glass balls hanging from the lights and a glitter snowflake for a star on the top.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want a tree shedding on the floor, and I didn’t want Sasha knocking over an artificial tree, so I put the lights in here. I had this blank space over the bed, and Erica’s been yelling at me, trying to get me to put something up there, so I came up with this. I kind of like it.” Derek decided that explaining the math that went into the tree design was pointless when he saw how Stiles kept rolling his neck and shoulders. “Stiles, not that I don’t enjoy the company, but what brought you over tonight?”

“Derbear, you know shoulder strain, what with being a pitcher and all, could you work out my shoulder? I think I pulled something when I was…throwing things….earlier.” Stiles stumbled out.

“Oh, sure, no problem.” Derek did know about shoulder strain, and the best bet would be some massage followed by ice.

“Dude, you are a lifesaver.” Stiles stripped his shirt over his head, and flopped onto Derek’s bed, facefirst.

Derek looked at the curve of Stiles back, the low waistband on his jeans, and just swallowed before leaning in to rub the other man’s shoulders.

Fuck, he was so screwed.

 

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we just talk about how wonderful Katieepretzel is? She did her part on record time, her additional comments and lines helped me come up with some wonderful scenes, and I know exactly where the next 2 chapters are going.  
> The wait, as always, is on me. I am horrible at updating, and for that I prostrate myself before the altar of your understanding.  
> Enjoy the thought processes of inappropriate erections, the overuse of italics and more commas then she generally allows me.

“Oooohhhh god Derek, right there’s perfect…oh god! Oh…just…harder…please godsogoodyourhands….” Stiles had clearly lost control of his mouth, but the things Derek was doing to him were just so fucking good.

Derek straddled Stiles’ thighs, stretched both of his arms high above his head. He dragged his fingers ever so slowly and gently across the expanse of Stiles’ back…and then just dug his fingers right into the massive knot that had formed in Stiles’ shoulder after spending so long pitching shit at the garage.  Stiles knew he was being childish, but seriously, his boyfriend was off with this Hawaiian god who OBVIOUSLY wanted him, and Stiles was home alone like always.

He’s still so mad and so hurt, and Dad and Melissa are getting married on _New Year’s_ , and Isaac won’t be here for it. For _him_. Always a bridesmaid and never a bride, erm…always a best man and never a groom that is. God, and what must Scott’s neighbors think, sitting around and suddenly ‘Hey, Ethel, that Bilinski boy you like so much, from them moving pictures? He’s abusing the poor McCall’s garage door! Ethel, do you think we should call up them tabloids?’ And Lydia’s pairing off with Jackson _again_ , and good for them, and Erica could’ve been his bro except she’s with Boyd, so now it’s awkward because he can’t ask her how Boyd feels about his stupid brother being a massive dickhead, and Scott has a freaking baby on the way, so that just leaves Derek.

And he can’t have Derek even if he wanted him, because Isaac made it clear that the reason Derek and Isaac hadn’t worked is because Derek’s career would always come first. Stiles gets that, he does, because his career is important to him, too, because he wanted to take care of his dad one day but that was before Melissa, and Derek only has his career. Derek who was currently a heavy weight on the back of his legs, a hot, lingering and tingling pressure along his spine, and a light, soft breath along his neck.

“Stiles, you’ll let me know if I do anything you don’t like, anything that hurts too much, right?” Sweet Snow White and the seven dwarves! Was that gruff rasp meant to be reassuring? Was Derek attempting to reassure him that yes, yes indeed if clothes came off and wild monkey sex happened it would be fucking AWESOME? Because Stiles thought that would be stellar….no, no, Stiles did _not_ think that! Stiles thought about Isaac, and Isaac being the one who should be here not off doing god knows what with Danny and….

And let’s be real here, Derek is probably a monster in bed (in a good way, not a bloodsucking vampire or angry werewolf biting – well, biting wasn’t so bad, Stiles actually liked a little nibble here and there but _not_ from Derek) but that’s not really Stiles’ thing to be thinking on. Not thinking on sex with Derek while he’s laid out, half naked in the man’s bed, the man a hefty weight on his ass, because apparently Derek needed a better angle? BUT, no, no thinking on sex with Derek, because Stiles is a decent person and he is only going to think about sex with Isaac, because Isaac is his…he thinks. Isaac was his, before he went home, with another man.

So, Stiles will swear up and down, left and right, in and out, that he meant to say ‘okay’ or maybe even ‘alright will d’ and not “Uuunnnghhh!” followed be a really sharp inhale. No sir! He did not mean to make sexy time noises. Sexy time noises were bad.

Thing is, Derek is really good at this whole rubbing out….

Thing is, Derek is really good working out kinks….

Thing is, Derek’s hands are magic….

Derek knows where to push….

Derek on him is…

Stiles realized that there was nothing at all he could think in this moment that was not going to contribute to the ragingly hard, but totally natural and _normal_ , though no less horrifyingly awkward  erection he currently has. Honestly, he didn’t even think it was sexual at this point…it was just the relief of not being in pain, coupled with the feeling of not being _alone_.

Right.

Stiles was getting ready to attempt speech again when Derek shifted his weight, and the steady, deep pressure digging into his shoulders and neck made way to a gentle effleurage down his spine and across the back of his ribs. Every four or five passes of Derek’s large palms, fingertips barely skimming the skin, he would change it up a bit, and work those fingers into a knot that Stiles didn’t even know was there.

The more he thought about it (because isn’t thinking about baseball supposed to help get _rid_ of insanely hard hard-ons and Jesus this was not working, or Derek’s hands are working altogether too well, and that’s kind of sort of the problem) a pitcher _would_ know where to find all the muscle stress from throwing.

“So, little drummer boy, care to tell me what happened tonight?” Derek asked, hands never hesitating in their movements. Stiles started to turn his head so he could look at Derek while talking, but something stilled his head. “Eyes forward, if you turn your head when I don’t tell you to, it could make things worse back here…wouldn’t want that.”

“You have no idea what I want, DerBear.” Stiles muttered into the pillow. He sighed, before lifting his head just a, eensy weensy bit, enough to stare at the lights at the base of the headboard before continuing. “Dad’s getting married in a week, and I know it’s been plenty of time to move on, and Mom would want it, and Mel is awesome, but she’ll never be Mom, she’ll be like MA-lissa…but never Ma or Mom. And Scott, we’ve wanted to be brothers for ages, but now it’s really happening and I don’t know what to make of it. I would talk to my loving and caring boyfriend about all of this- but oh, wait!” Stiles can taste the bitterness at the edge of his sarcasm. “He’s out east with his “friend” Danny, the creepy creeper from Hawaii who wants what isn’t his.” Stiles took a deep breath and dropped his face back into the pillow.

“Danny’s been around for a while.” Derek said, hands never stopping. “He’s always wanted Isaac, never made any bones about it. But to be honest…he never outwardly acted on it either. It’s not like he couldn’t have, Isaac and I…we weren’t committed, we weren’t exclusive. I never did right by him, and he only stuck around until he realized I was never going to commit to someone.”

Stiles was thrilled that he wasn’t looking at Derek. He couldn’t have hid the hurt in his eyes at hearing that. “Never is a really long time.” He whispered.

“It’s how I felt, at the time. It was a long time ago, and I don’t…I don’t think I feel that way anymore. Everyone has someone now, are settling down, Scott and Al are having a baby, Lydia stopped running from Jay, Erica and Boyd are going to be amazing, and Peter finally decided that Gerry deserved a ‘real family’. I think now with the right person…I dunno.” Derek trailed off, it was a minute before se spoke again, much softer. Stiles could barely make out the words. “Maybe it would be really, really good.”

That’s kind of how Stiles feels, isn’t it? With the right person, maybe he could figure out what everyone else seemingly has, what his dad has had twice now, why they fight so hard for it…why he isn’t fighting harder for Isaac.

“I am never going to be able to live up to Danny, am I?”

“Nope, you’re already leagues above him.”

Stiles smiled, thinking that had to be the schmaltziest of lines he’s ever heard. “Derek, no offense man, but you’re a bit bigger than I am and fuck, you definitely have more muscle than me…,could you maybe get off of my ass now?” Stiles asked, arching his back a bit and wiggling his hips.

He laughed at how fast Derek wrenched himself off of him, hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d the same effect on Derek that Derek had on him. Thankfully, all th in depth relationship talk killed the most inappropriate erection ever, next to the one at Scott’s Grandma’s funeral, and the  one at Lydia’s sweet 16, the one after his first track meet when he got the silver…in the grand scheme of things maybe this _was_  an appropriate boner. Rolling to his back, he stretched, then flopped over onto his back. “So, how long do you think we can we leave the pups in the yard before they start acting crafty?” Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

“Fuck!” Derek yelled, before running out the bedroom door.

Huh, well that answered that, Stiles thought, spreading himself out on Derek’s amazingly comfortable, plush bed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is gratuitous snuggling (also, this is the only chapter so far with a summary, I just wanted to say gratuitous snuggling)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katieepretzel is, as always, my amazing beta. She has the beginning of the next chapter already, and I'll be getting more to her later today. Sh'es been working this around friends being in town, interviews, tests, just....seriously, she's amazing.  
> Angela is always appreciated for her fangirling, her kicks in the ass, her encouraging messages, and for tormenting, tormenting her is what is driving this story being updated more regularly, so thank her, everyone!  
> Just a reminder @standup_stiles, @howlinghale, @easilymislyd, @notactualpotato at twitter, it's gonna be important soon. Also, I hang out there too, @Olor_et_Luna   
> Oh yeah, even though it's all over this bad boy, I don't actually own the rights to any shows, movies, music, people, etc yadda and so forth

_Christmas Night, 2010_

Stiles lay on Derek’s bed, trying to decide if his just living here would be awkward. He bet he could get anything delivered to this bed, Derek’s a fucking Dodger for chrissakes. But seriously, how did he not notice how fucking unbelievably comfortable and _huge_ it was, earlier?

Oh wait, that’s right! He was trying to will away the inopportune erection OF DOOM, because seriously, nothing says “I’m committed to my asshole boyfriend” quite like being painfully hard in the bed of another man. Totally. Just about the time Stiles’ decided he’d probably already breeched into creeper territory by staying in Derek’s bed without him, two furry little missiles were launched and landed on him.

Or more accurately, Derek lightly tossed Sasha and Fred onto the bed before plopping down on it himself, a beer in one hand and root beer in the other. “I didn’t know which you would want and I’ll do either, but I seem to recall beer not being your favorite.”

“Yeah dude, the root beer, thanks.” Stiles said, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig before setting it on the bedside table. He slid backwards until he was leaning against the headboard, humming contentedly as Fred and Sasha curled up to his left, Derek mimicking his position past them. Stiles had done a lot of thinking today apparently it’s what happens while you throw things against walls. Isaac wasn’t around; all of his friends (minus Derek) will be at his Dad’s wedding with their respective partners, leaving him there alone. Right.

So, he bit the proverbial bullet. “So, I have this wedding to be in, on New Year’s Eve, and if you don’t have plans with someone, I would love for you to be there. Everyone else is invited too, not just you, I mean, it’s not like I’m asking you to be my date, just that I won’t have anyone there and knowing there’s someone who won’t be sucking face at midnight would really make me feel better.” Stiles could feel his cheeks heating with a blush, and he kept his eyes focused straight ahead, not risking a glance sideways. He couldn’t bear to see rejection or even worse, pity, on Derek’s face.

“You need a friend, I’m your friend, and I like John and Melissa, as long as I don’t have to wear a tux I’m in.” Derek answered, eyes resolutely fixed on the door as if he couldn’t bear to look Stiles in the eye.

“Naw man, I don’t think anyone’s wearing a tux. Dad didn’t wear one when he married Mom, I can’t see him getting the sudden urge now. I was told to be semi-formal, it’s happening at one of the hotels or some shit. Allison called Lydia, Lydia called Erica, there was a conference with Melissa, champagne was involved…

“Basically, I’m fucking terrified for whoever has to deal with the four of them planning this on super short notice, but I think it’s just going to be simple.” Stiles picked at the label on his root beer. “How much do you know about Scott’s dad?”

“Not much. I know that when Scott found out Allison was pregnant he panicked because he didn’t ‘want to be like _him’_ but that’s about it. Scott and I, we tend to not do the heart to heart thing too much. Why?”

Before Stiles could answer, his phone started singing, “This time babyyyy, I’ll beeeeee bulleeeeetproooooof”. He grabbed it out of his pocket, made a face, and set it on the bed next to him. “From what I know, he wasn’t a good guy. Didn’t treat Mel or Scott right, didn’t let Mel make a lot of decisions about their life. Dad knew her because of Mom, they were friends and Mel was her nurse, but dad also knew her because of Scott’s dad. One too many domestic calls he had to answer, occasional bruises on both of them that couldn’t be explained away. I don’t know much, but I know it was important to Dad that Mel get exactly what she wanted, which was simple, nice, intimate and them.”

His phone started playing Bulletproof again, Isaac’s name flashing on the screen. Stiles sighed heavily before reaching down to silence it. He couldn’t talk to Isaac right now, he just couldn’t. He was hurt, he was confused, he was _angry._ Stiles _never_ expected to be Isaac’s main priority (and maybe that was part of the problem), but he _did_ at least expect to be in the top five, and certainly higher than freaking _Danny_. He knew he was being unfair and irrational, it’s not like Isaac was staying in New York over New Year’s to spend it with Danny, he was there for work and Danny just happened to be with him, and they couldn’t do a turnaround to be there for the wedding. For some reason that must be incredibly complicated and obscure because from where Stiles was standing, it could easily be done.

Fucking hell, Stiles would have gladly and happily dealt with Danny to have Isaac there, their first New Year’s, that’s usually a big deal, right?

Stiles silenced his phone 4 more times in just as many minutes, all while petting Fred and laughing while Sasha barked and growled at his phone. He pointedly ignored the way Derek would look at the display each time, and freeze just a little.

But Derek’s phone ringing, that wasn’t something Stiles expected. He also didn’t think Derek would actually answer it.

“Hey, what’ya need?” Stiles was blatantly eavesdropping. “I don’t know, why do you think he isn’t answering?...No, he’s fine, I’m certain he’s alr-just calm down. Isaac, he’s sitting right here on my bed, one moment.”  Derek looked so apologetic as he handed his phone to Stiles, and Stiles was struck by it. Derek mouthed ‘do you want me to stay?’ to which Stiles nodded emphatically. Because yeah, he does want Derek to stay. He’s not entirely sure what the outcome of this conversation’s going to be, but he knows he’s probably not going to be happy no matter what happens, and he _definitely_ doesn’t want to be alone.

Sighing heavily, Stiles brought the phone to his ear. “What do you want, Isaac?”

“I want to know why my boyfriend is sitting on my ex’s bed, avoiding me!” Isaac snapped. Stiles was seconds away from apologizing and  just explaining how he was feeling and why he was at Derek’s…and then he heard Danny in the background. It was muffled, but it sounded like he said ‘well, you did ask Derek to look after Stiles while we’re occupied.’ And that, _that_ was just too much for Stiles to handle.

“I’m sitting on _my friend’s­_ bed because I came over here to talk. I came over here to talk because my fucking _boyfriend_ is too busy to talk to me because he’s _occupied_ with some Hawaiian dog trainer!” Stiles snapped.

“It’s not like that, babe, you know that.” Isaac whined.

“No, no I don’t know that. And that, my not knowing that, that _is_ a problem. A huge goddamned problem Isaac, I love you, and I know you love me, but _this_ , this thing where we’ll work together, and see each other, but wait! I never get to actually have you to myself because Danny is always around? That thing? It’s not going to work.” Stiles tilted his head back, stared at the ceiling, willing himself not to cry. He hated the way his voice cracked, that he had to explain this to Isaac.

“If this is about your dad’s wedding-“

“Don’t.” Stiles laughed bitterly. “You and I both know this is about more than Dad’s wedding. You’re probably one of the best people I know, but you’re blind to what’s in front of you.” God how much does this suck, right? Explaining to his fucking boyfriend what is painfully apparent to everyone else. “Danny obviously wants you, you obviously want him, and this is _so obviously_ not what I need.” Stiles stopped talking when he felt a hand on his leg. He looked up to see Derek holding a very wriggly Fred towards him with one hand, his other sitting just above Stiles’ knee, warm and reassuring.

“Look, I’ll have people there for me at Dad’s wedding and I’ll have friends who, as you well know, look out for and after me, and that…that’s gonna have to be enough for me for now, because having a boyfriend? It’s not working.” And it wasn’t. He shouldn’t need friends to look after him all the time, or people at the wedding to keep him company. In that moment, Stiles realized that the reason he had excellent boyfriend stand ins was because he had a shit boyfriend. “You’re great, the sex was great, but us as a couple, we aren’t great. As trite and cliché as it sounds, we can still be friends. I like to think we’re adult enough to go ‘hey, this didn’t work, but we run in the same circles, we work in the same circle, Stiles is fuck-all awesome and I want him in my life, but this just didn’t work’ like you did with Derek.” His voice hitched at the end, a few tears sliding down his cheek.

“If that’s what you want.” Isaac replied, quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah I think it is.” No, no it fucking well isn’t. What he wants is his fucking amazingly caring boyfriend to be here, with and for him, and not off gallivanting around the eastern seaboard with Danny. “We don’t need to make it a big deal, we don’t need to make it awkward, and we’ll still see each other all the time, just, y’know, no more sexin’ it up.” Stiles sniffled. “Look, have fun, get this script revision hammered out because I’m supposed to start filming soon, and if you don’t have the revisions done then we’re behind schedule before we even start, and, I dunno, throw Danny a bone or something so maybe he’ll be less of a douche and I can start trying to be his friend.” Stiles started laughing through the tears at the expression that crossed Derek’s face at that.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. You want to talk to Derek again?” Stiles didn’t even wait, just thrust the phone at Derek before burying his face in Fred’s fluffy fur.

He knew this was comin… so why did it hurt so _freaking much_? He’s the one who made the decision, he’s the one who ended it, but he still feels about three inches tall right now, trapped under a foot of snow, in the dark, with clowns holding balloons outside the door? That’s not – how is there snow inside? Or are the clowns outside and there’s just a door in the middle of nowhere?

Seriously, why can’t he come up with a good metaphor for how he feels? He’s supposed to be good with words, good with speaking and performing and…oh god, he’s alone again. He couldn’t help it, his body just started shaking. Stiles knew what was coming, knew he just wanted to make himself as small as possible so he rolled onto his side and started to curl up into himself when the large arms holding him around his middle made it so that he couldn’t. There was a solid presence behind him and a warm voice in his ear.

 “It’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to cry. I refuse to let you wallow, and you won’t be alone in this.”

Holy hell Derek was psychic.

“As much as I wish that were true because yes, you did say that out loud, and no, a mouthful of Fred didn’t muffle it that much, I am not psychic, you’re not alone, you _are_ excellent with words, and as much as you made the cut it hurts because it always hurts when something is over, when someone made a mistake even if it wasn’t you.” Derek was almost whispering.

Stiles lay there, crying into Fred’s fur and letting Derek hold him. He’s glad that Derek didn’t try to stop the tears, didn’t try to tell him it was stupid to be hurting or that he should buck up and grow some balls or whatever. Because seriously? That’s a stupid metaphor. Balls are the most sensitive part of the body and they just hang out, all vulnerable and ready to be kicked or kneed or accidentally caught on the corner of his end table while chasing after his fluffy devil. They’re like a freaking GIANT target with a flashing neon sign that says, ‘If you want to hurt me, aim here!!!’

 After about half an hour he started to calm down, only sniffling every now and then. His throat hurt, his eyes were sore, and he was pretty sure he had fur sticking to his nose, but his breath had evened out and he didn’t think his eyes felt as puffy. He yawned, stretching just enough for Fred to wriggle butt-first in between himself and Derek where Sasha was already sleeping. 

Huh, when did that happen?

“Hey, shhhh, just rest alright, I’ve got you.” Arms tightened briefly before Derek let go, and presumably sat up.

“Dude, you suck at this,” laughed Stiles. “That is the opposite of having me.”

“Hold your fucking horses, little drummer boy.” Derek growled playfully. Stiles felt him flop back down, pulling a blanket over both of them and the dogs. “Now, as I said, just rest, I’ve got you.” Derek insinuated his arms back around Stiles’ waist.

Stiles relaxed into Derek, his back soaking up the warmth that radiated off of him. “What’s your bedding made of, angel feathers and stardust? I’ve never felt anything this comfortable, and I’ve been in Lydia’s bed!”

“Mmmmm….no, sheets are unicorn mane woven with fairy wishes,  duvet stuffed with the dreams of small children I stole from the sandman, now shut up and go the fuck to sleep.” Derek murmured into the skin behind his ear.

That sounded like a really good idea, so a freshly single Stiles fell asleep in Derek’s bed, Derek’s arms around him and their pups snuggled between them.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like it.

Three PM on New Year’s Eve saw Derek barefoot in slacks and an undershirt, pacing around a hotel room trying to keep everyone calm.

Erica was with Lydia, Allison and Melissa in the bridal suite, talking about whatever the hell women talked about before a wedding when they weren’t harassing him on the phone about details and plans and well, Scott.

Jackson and Peter were off in the “Super Secret Special Awesome Man Room” they’d bribed the concierge into setting up for them, watching TV, eating pizza and generally being traitorous bastards. As to why he wasn’t in the special little man room, the cited reason was ‘Your manager, your…friend. Your job to keep them calm. Not related, not our problem.’ Seriously. Bastards.

This meant that he, Scott, Stiles and John were all together in the groom suite of the hotel (which Derek was 99.9% sure was just a regular guest room with twice the price). John seemed to be handling things quite well, especially compared to the women, and Stiles….well. Derek was just happy that Stiles was relatively sedated and stable. Derek is also happy that he’d had the foresight to take Stiles phone from him earlier in the day, as _anyone at all_ who needed him today was here, at the hotel. He was not going to see the heartbroken looks all day when Stiles phone rang or binged or squawked or whatever he had it set to now, and it wasn’t Isaac on the other end…

“Erica! Tell Allison the food will be fine, she _did_ make it and she’s amazing so the food is too, the cake is not too small because there’s only a handful of us, and that Scott ‘crossed his heart and hoped to die’ assures me she looks beautiful in her dress.” Derek rolled his eyes at how Scott perked up at hearing Allison’s name. “Tell Mel I have things under control here, and I’ll check back in with you in a few minutes.No…nope…Erica! I _will not_ let Scott dump a bottle of red wine into Kool-Aid, float some orange slices in it and call it Sangria. He has to know Stiles was joking about that, right?” Derek disconnected the call, sliding his phone in his pants pocket before dragging his hand down his face.

The last week had been a constant blur of phone calls, drives all over southern California to find just the right food, dresses, flowers, and suits (because bridesmaids dresses had to be midnight blue and no, that’s not navy Derek, and the hydrangeas needed to be just the right tint of purple and no, normal blue wasn’t good enough Derek _jeez_ ) and evenings spent keeping Stiles from breaking down.

Derek’s pretty sure the only nights that didn’t end with him and Stiles asleep on his couch or in his bed (not cuddling, just…limbs adjacent, sometimes, not _every_ time, maybe most times limbs may have intertwined just a little)were the two nights they’d crashed at Stiles’ place – once after running the dogs and once after Stiles literally drummed himself out. Derek‘s still amazed Stiles managed to not only fall asleep _on_ his kit, but through being carried into bed, and changed out of jeans and into flannels.

For comfort.

Because Derek maintains that the only, _only,_ reason he changed Stiles was that Stiles was crashed hard (literally, his arm crashed a cymbal), and sleeping in jeans isn’t comfortable. Because he didn’t check out the way Stiles boxer briefs clung to him, he didn’t notice any of the…equipment, so he _didn’t_ enjoy the experience.  At all. Hell, he didn’t even notice that Stiles was wearing Sesame Street boxer briefs! (Big Bird? Really? Someone’s setting expectations rather high, aren’t they? Not that Derek noticed, no…not at all.)

They didn’t spend all their time together, just when Stiles needed him or Lydia or Scott said Stiles needed him or the one time Erica told him to ‘check on his boy’…To be fair, that was the day that the revised script was delivered, and no one was sure how he’d deal with reading lines in a romantic comedy written by his ex.

Stiles had handled it really well. Superbly, even. Derek had been fascinated watching him learn the script, heartfelt line by heartfelt line and sweeping gesture by sweeping gesture, seemingly caught up in the emotions and the significance and the…power of it all. Seeing a different side of Stiles…it had been nice.

After Erica had called him to let him know the script was being sent over that day (“Derek! Who knows what could happen! Do you really want to be the one to explain to Mel why he’s already destroyed her Christmas Gift? How would that look to her, Derek, HOW WOULD THAT LOOK TO HIS FUTURE STEP-MOTHER?!”), Derek had barged through Stiles’ front door. He’s still not sure what he was expecting, but what he got was Stiles in jeans that just clung to him like sin, a t-shirt and loose sweater wearing ridiculous glasses and tapping a pen against his mouth. Sucking the pen between his lips, tongue edging out around the cap…

Stiles had looked up at him, over the top of his (awkward, stupid, horrible, not at all sexy or endearing or cute) glasses. “DerBear, shut the damn door before Fred gets out.” He’d paused to consider, fellating the pen as he thought. “Actually, turn around, close it behind you, and don’t come back unless you have Double-Double animal style, and caffeine.”

What was Derek supposed to do with that? He’d practically fled from the house to In & Out, got the burger, some fries (well done animal style, the only way to do it), a Double-Double protein style for himself and a giant soda, filled to the brim with Stiles-requested caffeine.. When he’d finally worked up the nerve to go back in the house (praying Stiles wouldn’t notice the food was getting cool, and that he’d been gone a good half hour longer than needed), Stiles hadn’t moved from his spot and the only sign that anything had changed was the pile of marked up pages now littering the coffee table and surrounding floor space.

“Stiles, your food is here.” Derek finally said, after standing for a few minutes, clearing his throat. He tried, and failed, not to laugh when Stiles just let go of his pen, letting it dangle from between his lips, and made grabby motions with one hand. “Nope, kitchen table, you need to eat, not feed the script.” 

Stiles _still_ brought the pages with him to the table, reading while eating. He was so quiet by normal standards, and insanely, something-is-dastardly-dangerously-wrong by Stiles Standards, but at least he wasn’t still.

Every now and then the hand without food, sometimes the hand WITH food, as his animal-style splattered face could attest to, would motion to something, somewhere. His face was ever changing, rapidly shifting from upset to sad or happy to thoughtful without a moment’s notice or hesitation, and he’d occasionally reach out his tongue to swipe at the corners of his mouth. 

Since Stiles was still focused on the pages in front of him (and on every available surface) Derek cleared away the mess without being asked. Stiles’ attention never deviated from his script, so Derek took Fred for a walk. Not to get away from Stiles and the adorable hipster glasses and the pen fellatio, Stiles absent mindedly scratching his belly every now and then, causing the edges of his shirt and sweater to ride up and show a sliver of skin, a line of dark hair, no, because he didn’t know when the last time Stiles let Fred out was.

When he got back, and returned Fred’s leash to the hook by the door, he heard drumming, loud fast drumming.  It wasn’t too hard to follow the sound until he found Stiles in the guest room, where he’d apparently set the kit up after he decided his dad wasn’t “defiling poor Ms. McCall” there anymore. He’d stripped out of his t-shirt and sweater, drumming shirtless (Derek, it’s the _only_ way to properly drum”), sweat trailing its way down his neck and chest. Derek tried not to stare, tried not to follow the way the muscles moved down Stiles’ shoulders, his forearms, the long dexterous fingers that would flourish and spin the sticks every so often. The sticks that Derek bought him.

Instead, he just leaned against the doorframe and listened, watched, observed while Stiles spent a good hour slamming his sticks against the drums, occasionally murmuring things Derek could barely hear: stupid Isaac, goddamned wedding, fucking script, Hawaiian dog trainers what the hell….The drumming slowed eventually, faded out, replaced by a gentle snore and a cymbal crash.

And that’s how Derek knows Stiles can sleep through literally anything, and that‘s how Derek knows that Stiles has those goddamned Big Bird boxer briefs.

“I’m just a girl in the world, that’s all that they’ll let me beeeeee” suddenly wailed from Derek’s pants. “My phone, it’s just my phone!” he blurted out while fumbling it from his pants. At least it rang and stopped him from thinking about any implications of Stiles choosing Big Bird, out of all available Muppets, to adorn his boxers because that train of thought was too…revealing.

“Derek, are they ready? It’s time, like, now, it’s time.” Lydia sounded almost nervous. Looking around…yeah, they were ready. Stiles and Scott were both hugging John, telling him whatever they needed to before they officially became a family. Maybe, one day, Derek would get this. People becoming a bigger family, loving words and inside jokes and crooked ties. Maybe by then Stiles would learn how to tie a tie, and Scott wouldn’t be spazzing out because Allison would be available to help him get ready, and maybe, shit, Derek shouldn’t be thinking about Stiles in the context of his future.

The wedding was, for lack of a better, more powerful word, beautiful. John and Melissa pledged themselves to each other in a way that was respectful to Stiles’ mom, but still pure and touchingly heartfelt and brimming with love. The reception afterwards was loud and joyous, complete with plenty of fantastic cake and proper sangria, hydrangeas that were the perfect shade of purple, and full of embarrassing speeches and touching moments.

The closer it got to midnight, the more Derek watched Stiles…the more he was certain Stiles was watching him. Looking over Lydia’s shoulder while she led him around the dance floor, full on turning his head when he was talking to John…Derek could tell Stiles was happy, in a sad sort of way. Something was obviously missing for him. The countdown to midnight started, everyone pairing off. Derek walked himself out to the patio, he just couldn’t handle all the couple-y cuteness that was about to take place.

It was then Stiles kissed him.

It was there Derek’s world went upside down.

Derek kissed back.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit more rambly than others, but then, Stiles is of dubious sobriety, which impacts how he thinks.  
> Katieepretzel, the best beta, thank you.  
> Dear readers- I apologize now if if feel like I am not only ripping out your hearts, but spinning them iver my head by their strings before flinging them down a dank alley. Honest.

_New Year’s 2011_

Sangria and sugar and the slip slick slide of tongues against lips and teeth.  Derek’s hand on the back of his neck, on his hip. Stiles moaning and pressing against him, clinging, licking against his tongue.

“Mr. Potato Head and his bucket of parts,” suddenly blared from Derek’s pants.

“Shit! Shit, crap, merde, mierda.” Stiles shouted and jumped back. “Dude. Scott is in your pants! No, my phone, Scott is calling my phone and I’m in your pants. Wait…that’s not right.”

Derek took his arms off Stiles and looked almost sheepish as he rooted around in his pockets to hand Stiles his phone. “I took it from you earlier. You seemed jumpy when it would go off.”

“That’s not what I’m –just a sec.” Stiles said, swiping his thumb across the keypad. “Mr. Potato! What do you need?!” Stile paused, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right in, Derek and I were just…covering some bases.” Stiles looked to Derek, _firmly_ told himself they’d figure out what that just was later. “Dude, c’mon, Dad wants to tell a few stories about quote,” and yeah, he air quoted,” ‘The Road To Becoming A Family’ and well, the family needs to be there.”

Stiles thanked whatever lucky stars he had that something viable happened to stop the kiss. He wasn’t afraid of what it meant, but he was batshit terrified that it would’ve gone so much further. Clothes removing further. Kissing and licking and _touching_ all that tan skin further. Moaning and gasping and begging with breathless screams further.

Outside.

At his Dad’s wedding.

He just wasn’t ready to deal with this yet, not a week out of the break up, a week before he took off to start movie prep, with spring training just a few weeks after all that. This wasn’t the time to start a relationship, if that’s even what this would be, and he didn’t want anything with Derek to be a rebound. _Dear God_ , he didn’t want Derek to be a rebound.

Stiles grabbed Derek’s wrist and dragged him in behind him. “Dad tells the best stories, and I _know_ he has dirt on Scott.”

Somehow dirt on Scott turned into John telling about Stiles going thru fifth grade sex-ed, coming home and announcing he was never dating a woman ever, because they bled for days on end, _every month­_ , and that just isn’t _normal_. Lydia laughed because that happened around the same time in 5 th grade that Stiles had _briefly_ (emphasis was all his) entertained ideas of her. Then, Allison snorted grape juice on her dress, and Stiles hid his flaming face in Derek’s shoulder, constantly reassuring himself this was what normal friends did.

Melissa stood and raised her glass. “I just want to thank everyone for being here, for being understanding of some of our more…unusual quirks,” she stared at Scott, Stiles knew the purpl hydrangea obsession was his and his alone, “and for helping make this evening perfect. Some of you went far above and beyond what was expected,” Stiles stiffeld a giggle in Derek’s shoulder as Melissa glared at Peter and Jackson, “and some of you stayed in a _Dude Room_.” John laughed, Stiles turned to join her in staring at the two Whittemore men sitting with Kate. Come to think of it, where had Kate been before the weeding? Had she also been in the guy room? “Before we retire for the evening in preparation for the lovely trip to Sonoma, thank you Stiles and Scottie, you’re such good boys…” Melissa swiped a napkin under her eyes, took a deep breath and what Stiles thought was a rather heroic gulp of sangria, “Before we retire, I want to thank Lydia, Erica and Derek for everything they did, they may not be family by blood or marriage…yet…but you know, Lydia has known us for a while, and Jackson, you didn’t do shit tonight, but this extends to you too, hell, any of you who’re here, we love you, and thank you, and I think I’ve had enough sangria now.” Melissa sat heavily, and from where Stiles was it looked like she was hiding her face in her new husband’s shoulder with John rubbing her shoulders and back soothingly. You know, like normal people…in a relationship. Friendship totally counts as a relationship, it’s in the dictionary, so that’s totally a thing that friends do.

Lydia came over and let them know she and Jackson had a room and were planning on staying, Scott and Allison were driving Erica home, and Peter and Kate were on their way to relieve the babysitter. The handful of friends outside “their group” that were in attendance were already dispersing.

“Derbear, I cannot drive home; can you take me home?” Stiles asked, leaning over and dropping his head on Derek’s chest. Derek had been his ride to the hotel earlier in the day. Stiles had been up a large portion of the night before reading lines, and checking the status of the flowers, because Scott would not accept that the damn hydrangeas were purple until Stiles saw the pictures, and the pictures took forever to be uploaded. Stiles hadn’t thought about Derek maybe having plans after, he just assumed he’d be the one taking him home. Derek was one of the most amazing friends, especially given their history, their rocky start, and then Stiles gave into (stupid, _stupid_ ) impulse and kissed him and maybe fucked it all up.

“Yeah, little drummer boy, I can do that. Can you walk?” Derek seemed really quiet to Stiles which struck him as odd, because you’d think with your head on someone’s chest their voice would be so much louder.

“You’re being quiet for me, aren’t you? Because I’m drunk?” Stiles didn’t think he was drunk. “Derbear? Do you know when you’re drunk, like, is a drunk person actually aware of drunk person thoughts?”

 “Yeah, Stiles, you’re drunk.” God, Stiles’ guts wrenched at how sad Derek sounded, he wished that he didn’t keep losing words around Derek, that he could explain to Derek that the kiss fucking _meant_ something, it mattered, and the timing might suck, and it was romantic but terrible because the two of them, they don’t do romantic, they AREN’T romantic, but they _could be_ , Stiles could be, if they both wanted. He could totally send cute good morning texts and call late at night when he was away just to hear Derek’s voice. He could have Derek’s favorite In and Out burgers delivered to the stadium (because they were dudes, who ate meat, and Derek didn’t like flowers, he said they were impermanent and an easy out), he could email him cute animal pictures of Fred and Sasha and surprise him at his car in the parking lot after practice. Only…no, he couldn’t, because Derek was afraid of what that would do to his career.

Right.

Stiles wasn’t an idiot, he knew Derek’s dating history, he’d asked around, asking  Jackson and Lydia only when they were apart, Boyd and Erica, only too willing to share information about Derek, which made him wonder who shared information on him like that with Derek. He knew that Derek had a history of _not_ having a history, that Derek seemed to be a well, not a love ‘em and leave  ‘em type, more of a ‘let’s have incredibly mind blowing sex and then not see each other for a while outside of social norms’ type, and doesn’t that just roll off the tongue? It wasn’t a mystery why – Derek had been very clear that his career meant _everything_ , in the few interviews he gave, and to his friends, it wasn’t a secret at all.

From what Stiles had figured out, Derek didn’t do relationships, he didn’t quite do casual sex either, he was too safe, too smart, and too aware of the risks. Well, baseball, that was Derek’s long-term love and anyone who he decided to have a relationship would have to understand it. If Derek had been asking around about him, he’d find that Isaac was a fluke. Most of Stiles’ relationships didn’t start so fast, or burn nearly as bright. No, Stiles thought bitterly, he was the ‘love them passionately, be monogamous, get burned in the end, and be alone for months on end with only the company of his hand’ type.

And most people were usually pretty shocked by that, actually. The random, and generally fairly ridiculous, reports on his love life in the magazines always made him the tragic one, the one who, even though he traveled _all the time_ for work, even though he _must_ be going to all the amazing parties with other comedians and actors, he was always the one left alone, he was never the one getting in trouble for being seen out and about with another person.

Granted, a fair amount of that was keeping his relationships on the down low but even if he were totally and completely out, it’d be the same. He never had a boyfriend in every city, never had the casual encounters because that wasn’t what worked for him. Hell, he knew plenty of people who that worked fine for and sometimes he was envious, the rest of the time, as long as no one was getting hurt, and everything was consensual, fuck, more power to them.

The thing was, Stiles liked being committed and in love. He liked doing the stupid little things just to make his partner smile, he liked going to the beach and learning to play Frisbee (Mark, in college), he liked going to play mini-golf and the comfortable trash-talking banter you have with someone you love, making a total fool of yourself in bowling alleys (Dave, good guy wrong time). He liked being with someone, being comfortable and safe and wanted, snuggling up and spooning and waking up tangled around someone…like with Derek.

The point to all this was that Derek would undoubtedly put Stiles in being in the ‘friends I can casually fuck’ category, and Stiles doesn’t _have_ that category, doesn’t even want that category. So naturally Derek would put him in the rebound bin, not knowing Stiles doesn’t DO rebounds…but then, if he didn’t, what was this?

He could barely stand the guy half a year ago and today he’s sucking face with him?

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice broke through the quagmire of thoughts in Stiles brain, “We’re home, do you need help getting in?”

Stiles just nodded. He knew he and Derek would have to talk about this like adults, this kiss, this thing, if there was a thing, if there was going to be a thing, what they wanted from any possible and future thing that they had, but tonight, he just wanted to sleep. He didn’t know if he could do that without Derek. As much as it scared him to admit, he’d gotten used to the man being there the last week or so. Gotten used to falling asleep against him on the couch, waking up intertwined in bed with the blankets tangled around his feet.

Stiles fumbled his keys at the front door; Derek picked them up, smoothly unlocked the house and got them in.

“Stay?” Stiles asked, quietly, finally looking up at Derek. Derek who still had kiss swollen lips, god how had no one called them out on that? Derek, who looked uncertain and god Stiles hating himself in that moment for putting that look in his face. “Just, so I can sleep, just sleep, nothing else. There never needs to be anything else. Not saying there couldn’t ever be anything else, just … _please_ Derek?”

Derek walked into the kitchen, poured Stiles a large glass of water and, rummaged in the drawer under the cutting board until he pulled out the aspirin. “Here’s the deal, Stiles. I’ll stay the night, but you need to drink this big glass of water for me, okay? Then tomorrow, tonight never even had to have happened.”

Well, Derek just made his intent clear, didn’t he? Fine, He wants to pretend, we can pretend, Stiles thought.

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which there is a Superbowl, gratuitous tweeting, and, most surprising of all, a chapter summary posted before the chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is late, I have a ton of excuses and reasons but really, it's late, I suck at posting on any osrt of a timeline, and I appreciate the fuck out of all of you.   
> Katieepretzel is amazing, and there is no way this story would be where and what it is without her kicking my ass, betaing chapters at odd times of night, and helping wrangle twitter.
> 
> The Superbowl that is being tweeted about is actually this years, even though this is happening in 2011, so forgive me, but when someone is willing to have your characters livetweet an event like that, you let them!

It’s been almost three weeks since the wedding. Since Stiles kissed him. Then got drunk, or more drunk… hell, was he drunk in the first place? Passed out and proceeded to carry on like nothing had ever happened.

Almost- everything was almost the same, except there was a tension between them that wasn’t there previously. After the wedding, the nightly sleepovers stopped. Instead, every three days until Stiles left for filming, he would show up on Derek’s doorstep, looking like he hadn’t slept in, well, three days. He’s always walk right over to the couch, pull out a stack of papers, and promptly fall asleep as soon as Derek sat down next to him.

But they _had_ kissed and it was _really_ good, at least, he thought it was. But then Scott called and why did Scott call? Why didn’t he just get off his ass and look for them?

Fuck, what if Scott DID look for them and saw them kissing? FUCK. Is Scott smart enough to not bring that up? Well… Scott did accidentally out his best friend in a fit of manic videogame rage, so from where’s he’s standing Scott is decidedly _not_ that smart.

The week after the wedding was fairly normal minus the…sleeping arrangements. He’d already started to get calls about spring training because pitchers and catchers reported in February before anyone else. Plans for Super Bowl parties were lobbied about, Christmas decorations were coming down, and through all this Derek was helping Stiles make plans for Fred.

“Derek, are you sure you’ll be okay with him while I’m gone? I’ll be in New York for about two weeks for on location filming and then I’ll have a weekend home before I’m in Vancouver for the rest. Now that means I won’t be home until right before you leave, so if you can’t handle it and please be honest for the sake of my adorable fur bundle’s wellbeing, I can call a doggie daycare or something.” Stiles questioned (nay, _interrogated_ )him, while nuzzling his face into Fred’s fur.

“Stiles, relax. He’ll be happy with me and Sasha and you already said you’d return the favor when I left for spring training, remember? Besides, it’s important to them… they’re obviously happier together than apart, and since neither of us has a service in home yet- Stiles! Stop barking at your dog, you’re a human for Pete’s sake- they’ll be fine switching houses like this. It’ll be much better than a doggie day camp.” Derek had to keep biting the inside of his cheek so that his serious expression wouldn’t break. Stiles planning Fred’s care was somehow more intensive than Scott and Allison looking for possible nannies for their as of yet unborn kid. It was oddly endearing but still hilarious.

“I just… he’s my baby Derek! I’m leaving him! If he was a small dog I could carry him with me, but I went and got a big ol’ boy, and just, _Derek_ ,” he whined, “What if he’s sad? What if he can’t sleep without my fingers in his fur and the warmth of me next to him?”

Derek couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was Stiles talking to Fred, and how much was Stiles talking about them. He assumed Stiles wouldn’t actually ‘forget about’ the kiss but from where Derek was sitting, he was doing his best-damned job to ignore it. Fine. Derek could be an adult and ignore the…thing…that happened… too!

Now Stiles is in New York and Fred is fine for the most part but he’s only sleeping on one side of the couch (his fluffy butt used to flop down in the middle with his head resting on whomever was closest, or willing to give ear scratchies), one pillow on the bed (instead of curled around Sasha in whatever spot was going to take up the most room for those who wanted the bed), and Derek found him in the bathroom laundry hamper the other day. How did Fred get in the hamper? Maybe Derek should actually wash the towels before his laundry actually takes over like Stiles threatened it would.

Whenever anyone’s over at his house, they just look at Fred and give Derek this look like there’s something he’s not getting, something HUGE he’s missing. Derek’s not sleeping all that well between all the getting ready for the baby and the pre-season shit with Scott, Erica and Boyd’s indecision on how serious they are, and Jackson and Lydia being well, Jackson and Lydia. It’s like the universe conspired to make sure he never had a moment alone to just think. Maybe then he’d get a good night’s sleep himself, because now that he does have a moment and he’s thinking about it, he hasn’t slept well for a while. Every now and then he finagles a good rest somehow, but it’s been at least a week since he’s slept through the night. Maybe he should look into some anti-histamines at night; he knows it helped Kate get back into a regular sleep schedule once Gerry finally started staying down all night.

Since he couldn’t run for hours with the pups, he worked out instead. Push-ups, chin-ups, sit-ups, Scott joked that if it ended in ‘-ups’ that he should be doing them.  Allison sent over an entire freezer worth of sliced fruits and powders for making his smoothies with strict instructions on their consumption in the lead up to training and they started going over his meal plans for training and then the season.  He wanted desperately to tell her to stop, to worry about growing this perfect baby…until Scott told him that focusing on taking care of him and a handful of other athletes kept her from worrying about the pregnancy.

Allison was terrified something would be wrong with the baby or that all of her clients would drop her after it was born. Because she wanted to keep working, and could reasonably do so from the professional kitchen she had not far from her and Scott’s house, Derek was the first to assure her he wouldn’t be dropping her as a nutritionist and neither would any of his teammates. He just needed to make sure he was covered while she was dealing with the new bundle of joy.

Derek kicked himself for that, figuratively.

Derek literally kicked Scott for that.

Seriously, he’s going to have to buy a second freezer just to store all of this. As it is, he abused Stiles’ ‘emergency key’ to use _his_ freezer for now because it’s not like he was using it while out of town, not really anyways. Yeah, maybe Derek had to eat some ice cream and gelato to make room for everything, but it was really for the greater good. Plus Fred seemed to like being home for a bit, while Sasha enjoyed running in her other familiar yard.

About a week after Stiles left and a week before the Super Bowl, Peter called Derek to ask if he wanted a recommendation to a good therapist.

“Peter, what the hell! The pre-season hasn’t even started yet, are you trying to give me a complex?” Derek asked, phone wedged between his shoulder and ear as he re-arranged Stiles’ freezer again. Seriously, how many freaking bananas does Allison make him consume in a week and can’t he just go buy his own as needed?

“Der, no. Just, things have changed a lot recently, and I want to make sure that any potential issues are cut off now,” Peter assured him in what Derek called the ‘couch voice’ – it was somehow soothing without being patronizing. Derek hated that voice.

“I fail to see how getting a dog is that much of a change.”

“Now you’re just being deliberately obtuse, dear nephew, and it doesn’t suit you. Whenever you manage to pull your head out of your ass, call me and I’ll give you a referral. Until then, I have a son at home who’s wondering when he can play with your dogs. Plural.”

The change in topics was startling, but welcome.

“I can bring them over during the Super Bowl? Stiles won’t be home yet so I know Fred’s available, and he won’t miss out on any papa time before he goes back to work.”

“Mm-hmmmm, I’ll pass on word to Katie and to Gerry then, and I’ll have that list waiting for when you need it, because Derek…you’re going to.” Peter disconnected after that, and Derek just kept wondering what the hell Peter read into in that exchange.

Every now and then, Stiles called to check on Fred, jokingly discuss the rumors of some ‘tall, dark, and _devastatingly_ handsome’ stranger letting himself in and out of his house, and to yawn in Derek’s ear.  Derek’s pretty sure Stiles has fallen asleep more than once while they’ve been on the phone.

“So, how’s working with Isaac?”

“Not as bad as I thought. Danny’s not terrible either. I mean, he’s always here, but at least he’s not a dick anymore,” Stiles yawned.

“Mm-hmmmm, maybe that’s because he doesn’t see you as a threat anymore, Little Drummer Boy. Speaking of, do you need more sticks? I can make sure you have some when you’re home for the weekend.” Derek stretched out in bed, trying not to ask why the hell Stiles was still up at 3am New York time.

“Dude, I can’t believe you remembered that I broke one! I told you about that like, my second night here.” Stiles paused, and when he spoke again his tone was softer. “Yeah, I’m keeping the ones you got me for Christmas at home and I’m pretty sure The Co-Star From Hell hid the rest of mine. I don’t know if I’ll have time to run out but I’d love it if you’d do that for me.”

“Sure thing, babe. Now, is your Beautiful Starlet To Be still complaining about you jiggling the table?”

“Naw, we’re not spending too much time doing reads anymore since filming started. She _does_ seem to think that trying to sleep with her co-star will either advance her in the industry or make marketing the film go better. Because really, that’s not awkward at all.”

Derek was stunned that his initial reaction wasn’t immediate and ridiculous laughter, but a twisting, burning stab of jealously and anger right in the pit of his stomach. “And of course, she has no clue that it won’t work with you. Just…find someone else to foist her off on!”

“Dude, not fair.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just tired; I’m surprised you aren’t too. I have nothing but fluffy butts and snoring pups in this bed right now and it’s making me so sleepy. Oh!  I’m headed to Peter and Kate’s tomorrow for the game. I’ll let Gerry know you said hi, yeah?”

“Shit, yeah, I miss that kid. Hey, see if we can’t get a few hours with him while I’m home, take him to the dog park with the pups or watch Adventure Time or something?”

“Yeah sure, I can get that set up. Now go to sleep. G’night, Stiles.”

“Night DerBear…miss you.”

Derek could only stare down at his phone. He and Stiles keep making plans together with the dogs like they’re a family or some shit. Like he and Stiles have moved beyond the hot and heavy passion and fucking on every available surface part of their relationship and settled into a comfortable life together. Except they haven’t moved _beyond_ anything, because they haven’t _HAD_ anything, because they _aren’t_ in a relationship. They just seemed to skip a bunch of really vital and rather enjoyable steps and instead became dog co-parents. He’s run out of people to ask about the line between friend behavior and more than friend behavior (well, he’s run out of people that will answer his questions anymore and he refuses to bother John and Melissa right now) but dammit, he has to believe that this is just friend behavior. Best Friend behavior. Yeah, that’s it.

“DEREK! FRED! SASHA! I MISSED YOU ALL!!!!!” a yelling bundle of energy proclaimed, as it violently launched itself at his legs.

“Hey Gerry! Stiles says ‘hi!’ by the way, and that he misses you, and he wants to hang out when he’s home in between filming, okay?”  Derek looked at Peter and Katie for their nod of approval.

“So, you and Stiles want to make plans with my son?” Peter asked, eyebrows high in his hairline. “Sure sure, just, make sure to take a folder of names and numbers before you leave tonight and I have no problem with that. It would be what, next weekend?”

“Yeah, he’ll be home, and I’ll still be here. But after that he’s in Vancouver for a bit and doesn’t get back until right before I leave for spring training.”

“He’ll be home?” Katie asked, smirking at Peter as she did so.

“Yeah… the dogs are gonna swap houses then so they won’t be separated. Eventually we’ll have to get a service, but for now switching houses when one or the other of us is gone is working best. Speaking of the fluffy munchkins, let’s get all these kids outside.” Derek unclipped Fred and Sasha from their split leash and opened the back door. Gerry may have shouted thanks as he followed the dogs, but it was hard to hear over the excited yipping and barking.

Kate and Peter appeared to have an elaborate conversation using nothing but their eyebrows, sharp tilts to their head, and lewd hand gestures.

“Guys, you know that Gerry’s outside right now so you can use your adult words, right?” Derek laughed.

“No, no, just figuring out…where to put the food. We don’t want Gerry getting into the spicy wings again, not after last year.” Kate sounded off to Derek, but he wasn’t gonna worry too much. He knew that Stiles had the night off of filming and his cast was having their own Super Bowl Party. He likely wouldn’t hear much from him tonight.

Except he did hear from him, but in a much different way than he expected. He’s still not entirely certain why he opened his Twitter app to tweet about the game. Maybe it was that Peter and Kate didn’t understand how into it he got- “Seriously Derek, you play baseball. Professionally. Your life is literally baseball. How can you be with obsessed with a completely different sport?” Maybe it was that Scott was home with Allison, and they weren’t having their traditional party because Allison was rightfully exhausted. Could be because Gerry was fading fast, an afternoon of puppy wrestling and seven-layer dip eating took its toll on the kid, so he couldn’t indoctrinate him on which team to root for. And maybe, possibly, it just felt a little weird not texting Stiles, so he just needed to be doing something with his thumbs. Whatever it was, it led to…well hell, what _did_ it lead to?

 **Derek Hale** @howlinhale

THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT #teamravens

It was an innocent tweet. Seriously, nothing even particularly interesting because really, it was the Superbowl. _EVERYONE_ was tweeting about the game, and it was all the same cheering and trash talking and internet screaming and keysmashing.

But it led to this:

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

@howlinhale Oh god seriously? A RAVEN’S fan? Where’s your hometown allegiance? #49erdomination

And from there, Derek was done. They kept sniping back and forth, kept half flirting or half-skirting around whatever it was they had or didn’t have. It was torture, but one of the best moments since their kiss. For Derek, at least.

@standup_stiles I’m sorry, what’s the score now? Might wanna rethink your hashtag there, Funny man. #ravensnation

@standup_stiles Bright side, funny man. They’ll be giving away 49ers merch for free tomorrow! #ravensdomintation

@howlinghale No one likes a braggard, Wolfman. #stillahalfleft #49erstiltheend

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

Is #superblackout turning the tide? #49erdomination

 **Derek Hale** @howlinhale

@standup_stiles HA. The only thing that could turn this time is a fairy godmother.

@howlinhale you offering? I hear you have the slippers for it.

@standup_stiles erica’s dead

@howlinhale yeah that’s right, I have spies. You betta watch yo trashtalk, Wolfman. Baseball season’s not that far away.

And then Lydia got involved, because his life obviously needed more fierce women.

 **Lydia Martin** @easilymislyd

@howlinhale @standup_stiles BOYS. Can we play nice, please? You were doing so well.

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

@easilymislyd HE STARTED IT!

 **Derek Hale** @howlinhale

@standup_stiles I did not. You’re the one that can’t recognize superiority when it’s an inch from your face

@howlinhale as far as I’m concerned, superiority is gold and red. YOU’RE THE ONE that can’t see good right in front of you

@standup_stiles I can see it just fine.

That’s when the tide fucking turned and the 49ers actually started coming back after the blackout. Dammit.

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

49ERS COMING BACK!!!!#couldbeasaddayinbaltimore

INTERSEPPPPTIONNNNN!!!!!Ray Rice might be running for the Ravens, but he certainly ain’t picking anything up for them.

ONE SCORE GAME ONE SCORE GAME!!!!!#49ersaretakingitback

@howlinhale SPOKE TOO SOON, WOLFMAN.

And then his traitor of a manager started tweeting, because of course the more people involved in this flimsy charade of Superbowl tit for tat the better. Who the hell allowed Scott on Twitter?

 **Scott McCall** @notactualpotato

@standup_stiles cool it, stiles.

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

@notactualpotato puhlease, scott. I think the Wolfman can handle a little trash talk

@notactualpotato he’s a fucking dodger, for chrissakes. If he couldn’t handle trash talk he’d be out of a job

So yeah, Derek interjected for himself. _Any chance at all_ he gets to bring up the time they met (and Stiles demonstrated his truly stellar athletic skills), duh, he takes it.

 **Derek Hale** @howlinhale

@standup_stiles if I handled balls like you, stilinski, I WOULD be out of a job.

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

@howlinhale I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD BRING THAT UP RIGHT NOW.

@standup_stiles  turn about’s fair play. you bring up my awesome slippers, I bring up your utter lack of athletic ability.

@howlinghale I’ll have you know, I have an extra special super secret bat handling technique

…Did Stiles just actually say that? Did he mean what Derek thinks he means? What he cannot help from imagining in a very, very inappropriate context? Okay but really, time to derail that train of thought right now as awkward adjustments while sitting next to your uncle, with your young cousin trying not to fall asleep on you is so not cool. Shit, did they see him choke on his beer when he read that?

Blessed by the grace of god, Gerry takes that opportunity to tell Derek about the ‘worm pies’ he ‘baked’ for the pups outside, complete with graphic details about the texture of the mud crust, how many worms he dug up, and the grass topping. Yeah, awkward pants crisis averted.

It may have taken him a full ten minutes to compose a response, and it wasn’t witty, but he had one.

 **Derek Hale** @howlinhale

@standup_stiles that’s funny, cause the only bat handling technique I saw was failing to use it to hit the ball. and that’s not super secret

@standup_stiles SPEAKING OF FAILS #slippedrightthrough #butterfingers

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

@howlinhale I TAKE IT BACK, THE THIRD TIME REALLY IS THE CHARM

@standup_stiles still ahead, buddy.

@howlinhale seven yards, PAL

@standup_stiles not scared, amigo

@howlinhale you should be, mate

@howlinhale FRIEND mate, not like… other mate. they might call you the wolfman, but i’m pretty sure i don’t wanna know why

@standup_stiles DAMNIT STILES WATCH THE GAME

@standup_stiles and it’s because i’m the top of the food chain. no natural predators. #wolfishgrin

@howlinhale admit it. you’re the momma wolf in that cars.com commercial, aren’t you

@standup_stiles that would require me to be a woman. do i look like a woman to you?

@howlinhale i have no way of knowing for sure, interested in proving your manhood?

@standup_stiles if i thought you’d actually know it when you saw it…

@howlinhale i resent that.

@standup_stiles you should.

The game ends, and the Ravens somehow magically pull it out. He’s a good sport, and maybe he’s gotten used to talking to Stiles like this, even if it is in a very public internet setting, and maybe he’s not ready to say goodnight yet.

 **Stiles Stilinski** @standup_stiles

Well that’s the end. #superbowlxlvii #thats47forthenonromans

 **Derek Hale** @howlinhale

@standup_stiles it was really a great game. your comeback after the power was pretty impressive

@howlinhale HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA dude i’m a giants fan.

@standup_stiles what

@howlinhale yeah dude, i was just riling you up. but kudos on the good sportsmanship! if i really was a niners fan i’d appreciate it.

@standup_stiles i swear TO GOD

“Oh my God!” Derek whisper yelled so he didn’t wake Gerry. All of that, and Stiles was rooting for the same team.

 

@howlinhale come on, wolfman. you had fun trash talking me back, just admit it

@standup_stiles you’re lucky purple pulled it out. not sure what your plans was if we hadn’t

@howlinhale dude, i would’ve permanently converted to a niners fan. betraying the giants isn’t nearly as terrifying as your pitching arm

@standup_stiles funny man finally gets it right!

@howlinhale AHHH so it turns out i can recognize superiority when i see it

@standup_stiles As far as I can see, the jury’s still out on that one, Stiles.

(Proper grammar? Why on Earth did he see fit to type this tweet the right way? This one, out of all of them. Dear god, he really does need a fucking therapist. Goddamn it Peter.)

@howlinhale wait what does that mean

@standup_stiles Nothing. I’ll tell Gerry and the kids you said hi.

 

“Look how cute Gerry and the kids are.” Peter’s voice caused Derek to jump, and then swear under his breath as he looked to make sure he didn’t wake up Gerry.

 “What?” Kate asked. Peter just turned his phone to show her the latest tweet exchange.

“Derek, you have anything you want to tell us?” Kate asked him, while once again doing the weird face and hand conversation with Peter.

“Thank you for a lovely evening? I appreciate you letting me come by? I’ll pick Gerry up after Stiles gets home and cleaned up next weekend?” Derek said, not sure what they felt was so pressing. All he could think about, to be honest, was how well Stiles pushed his buttons and in such a public forum. Well that, and whatever the hell had happened there at the end. He wasn’t even sure. Scott probably wouldn’t get it all, but Lydia, she’d undoubtedly already be on the phone to Stiles to ask about the blatant flirting and innuendo. And it was.

Fuck.

Because if Lydia sees it, then Peter and Kate see it, and just, no good.

“So, I think I’ll head out now. Peter, you have a folder of names for me I presume? I think I’ll need them after all.” He’d been so defensive about Stiles not knowing a good man if he were right in front of him… and it was pretty clear Derek obviously wanted more with him. He wasn’t ready for it though, not right now, not right before training started. It was gonna throw his game. Shit fuck piss damn.

“I’ll hold on to them til after you take Gerry. Maybe you don’t need them after all, kiddo.” Peter’s smile looked soft and sad.

The entire drive home, Sasha and Fred sleeping on the passenger seat, Derek thought about it. Thought about how angry Stiles made him, how frustrated, how …hot. Stiles was smart and good at playing him off himself, and he cared about people so much, and god…would Stiles ever want him if he were here and sober? Available?

Would Derek ever be available?

Right now, walking in the front door, Derek couldn’t even think about a relationship, he could only think about how much he wanted Stiles. Wanted him on his knees, wicked clever mouth and tongue put to better uses. Derek slammed the door and it made too much noise for how late it was, but he didn’t care. He leaned against the wall, panting as he undid his button and zipper, sliding his hand down his stomach, past his waistband to wrap around himself, firm and fast and hot. The only thing he cared about in that moment was Stiles’ eyes and mouth, hands and heat, the way his tongue peaks out the corner of his mouth when he’s concentrating, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers or drumsticks, the languid stretch of his body when he’s just waking up in the morning. Dear god, a friend shouldn’t know all of that, a friend shouldn’t be able to get himself off standing in his entryway to all of that, a friend shouldn’t be coming hot and heavy over his fist while thinking about one New Year’s kiss and the taste of another man’s tongue on his lips for hours after.

He shouldn’t, but he was.

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Always this couldn't have happened without Katieepretzel who does her best to wrangle my errors and beat them into submission, and without y'all who drive me to keep on with this, to do better for y'all. Thank you so much.

“What about Erica?” Danny asked, taking a bite of his apple.

“Yeah, she’d be less of an obvious beard than Lydia, plus they already dragged her into the tweets so there’s totally a reason for him to be around Derek, know the kid’s name, et cetera, et ceter- _ah_.” Isaac said, an incredibly pleased expression plastered on his face.

Lydia’s voice was a little tinny over the speaker of the phone that sat on the coffee table in the hotel. “Well, I’m all for not being his date anymore. Lord only knows Jackson will approve, and even better, all of us can convince Boyd. Hell, he’ll love the security she’ll be surrounded by for any publicity appearance, and there’s really no need at all for them to be seen out and about without it being a group thing otherwise. You two are genius!”

“First, I’m right here!” Stiles shouted, spinning his lone drumstick in his hand. “Second, _what’s_ the big deal with me and Derek, we’re friends now, nothing to spin! We tweet, we go out with the pups when I’m home, I’ll good-naturedly root for his opponents when he’s working. There is nothing to cover up or hide!”

“Did you even _read_ your tweets to each other?” Danny asked, a look on his face that Stiles was trying hard to describe as anything other than ‘bitch please’.

“Stiles, you know I love you, but I have to say, it all read really gay.” Lydia…well, not mumbled, because Lydia Martin doesn’t mumble, but damned if there was another word for it.

Stiles stopped his drumstick and just looked at Isaac and Danny for a moment, before all three of them started to laugh.

“And that, comical it may be given who were dealing with, is the problem!  Stiles, we’ve been looking for a reason why you aren’t all over your precious little co-star and Erica’s the perfect solution! I’ll call her and Boyd, get it cleared for her to be there when you’re in Vancouver and you can go out for dinner with her and Boyd and Derek when you’re home for a weekend. That way you can keep doing what you’re doing, attention will be diverted, it’s the best we can do if you’re hiding all this.”

“Lydia, we’ve been hiding my sexuality from day one, I don’t know how that’s suddenly ‘all this’-there’s no ‘all this’ I swear, and if it _does_ change, I’ll be the- hold on, Derek’s texting me.” Stiles stopped to check his phone and read that apparently, he, Derek and the dogs have a play date with Gerry this weekend. “Okay, let Boyd and Erica know that there’s a thing on Saturday, they have what…four days?” Stiles looked to Danny for verification, simple math on little sleep has never been his strong suit, “Yeah, four days to be okay with this because Gerry misses me, so we’re taking the kids to the park.”

“Mmmmm, a picnic lunch at the park sounds perfect, doesn’t it Stiles?” Isaac quipped, an odd expression on his face.

“Oh a picnic, that’s perfect…I’ll ask him, that’d be great and I bet Allison could plan a meal that wouldn’t mess up his pre-training diet, maybe something on potato bread so he’s not getting all his potassium from bananas, I know that he’s getting sick of all the bananas. Wait, I know she has this thing about his starch not coming from white potatoes though, because apparently the color of your starches matter? You know what, just, hold up and let me call him.” Stiles backspaced the ‘Bear, sounds great J Maybe a pic-a-nick basket! You could’ in favor of dialing. He tried to ignore the look Isaac was giving him, and focusing on the ringing in his ear made it easy to overlook Lydia and Danny murmuring in the background.

What Stiles couldn’t control was the sudden exhalation of relief and the smile that lit up his face when Derek’s voice replaced the ringing.

“Goddamn Little Drummer Boy, couldn’t wait three days to talk to me?” Stiles could hear the smile and laughter.

“Hey Bear! So, yeah, talk to Allison about packing a picnic lunch, and making sure there’s enough to feed Boyd and Erica too. Lydia should be calling them any moment if she hasn’t already.” Stiles figured steamrolling Derek into this ‘situation’ was really going to be his best bet. If Stiles couldn’t see what the big deal was, then Derek certainly had to be missing it, right? So there’s no need to sugar coat anything, no need to raise an alarm or make it seem like they, _he and Derek they_ , had anything to hide or gain from this.

“Why are we packing enough to feed the princess?”

“Derek, that’s no way to talk about Boyd!” Stiles laughed, everything except for him and that voice in his ear, that feeling of home and good and right curling in his stomach warm and safe, everything else just melted away and fell off the radar.

“Everyone seems to think that Erica would be a great fake date for me and since she’s your cousin, she’s a good excuse for the amount of time we spend together and why our families are so cozy or some shit like that because being friends isn’t quote _believable_ unquote but it’s the truth?” Stiles sighed, “I just don’t get it, Der, I really don’t. We don’t spend an unreasonable amount of time together, do we? We aren’t doing anything to attract the spotlight. Okay, maybe a little with the tweet war during the Superbowl, but it was a bro thing, right?” He knew he was whining and he hated himself for it, hated whatever it was in Derek that made him whineable, whine…a good person to whine to. Mostly ‘cause he just hates whining.

“Spotlight, it’s ours regardless of what we want. People are going to read into whatever they want however they want, even bro things, and we both know that. Also, didn’t you say the Co-Star From Hell needed to lay off, she was always shoving her cleavage in your face and making you uncomfortable pressing up against your back to read over your shoulder. Just be thankful that we’ve got friends and family willing to make things easier, okay?”

“Damn, wolf’s got insight! Alright, so the plan, as far as I know, is to get Erica and Boyd okay with her being my ‘girlfriend’ for the time being. I’m sure Lydia has plenty of unnamed sources who’ve been friends of either or both of us to talk about how we just felt it was time, what with Erica’s love of Monster and my dependence on Adderall we’re the tabloids next most-likely-to-say-something-inappropriate power couple!” Stiles was fully aware if he rolled his eyes any harder they could quite possibly fall out of his head. He’s pretty sure Derek was able to get the eye roll from his tone alone.

“What’s in it for them, putting her in the limelight so soon after the divorce? Matt wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety, rationality….or sanity.” Stiles was surprisingly prepared for that question, bless Lydia.

“Security. One, she’s already your cousin, add her being my girlfriend to that and she’s a public figure now, right? So people are going to take notice if there’s a scary crazy dude around her who shouldn’t be. Two, any events she goes to with me, premieres, parties, and whatnot, there’ll be physical security, big beefy people and unassuming people who are even scarier because they’ll fuck you up before you even see them coming, plus we’ll do as much group stuff as we can. Three, she’ll get out and have fun while she’s studying how to overhaul an engine or whatever it is she’s been doing, and when she inevitably opens her own garage, it’ll be good for business…right?”

“You totally pulled that last one out of your ass, didn’t you?” Derek asked.

“But it was good, right? Remember, my ass is perfection.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows (and maybe even his ass a little too, he is a showman after all) even though he knew Derek couldn’t see.

“Oh my god, thank god Erica and Boyd agreed while you two were drooling all over your phones, because this right here is _exactly_ the problem!” Lydia’s voice piped up behind Stiles.

“Oh holy crap!” Stiles jumped, bouncing his leg on the table. He must have been walking around while talking to Derek, he never realized how close he got to Isaac and Danny and Lydia’s speaker until just now. “Unfair, we weren’t even talking that long and I _still_ don’t know what is getting everyone up in arms!” Great, the whining came back!

“Oh Stiles, you and your perfect ass will figure it out someday. For now, go ahead and put Derek on speaker and save everyone some time, will ya?”

Stiles did what Lydia asked, because he decided a very long time ago that he values _both_ of his testicles and will never intentionally put them in harm’s way. “Dude, I’ve got you on speaker so you can hear Lydia who’s on speaker and Danny and Isaac are here.” Stiles said, holding the phone to his chest.

Danny flipped his phone around and showed the screen, prompting raucous laughter from everyone in the room.

“Der, you at home? Apparently Erica’s firing the first shot. She agreed, this is happening.

 **Erica Reyes** @blondeandcatty

@standup_stiles you, me, some friends and family and a picnic in the park as soon as you're home? I miss you, Batman

@howlinhale I hope you know you're family, so be at the park on saturday or pics of the slippers go live...kisses

 

 

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with pink bunny slippers, alright? They’re comfy. Stiles, tell them the slippers are fine.” Derek was…pouting? Without seeing his face Stiles couldn’t know for sure, but it definitely sounded like pouting.

“None of that now hush, Bear, they’re very….manly…pink bunny slippers, trust me.” Stiles assured.

“You do realize you keep calling him Bear, right?” Lydia sighed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! Now, Erica is on, excellent, I’m home Friday morning, who’s getting me?”

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much thanks as always to the amazing Katieepretzel. This is from a slightly different POV than my norm, and it's following my norm in being vaguely nonlinear. Enjoy

“Boyd, baby, you don’t have any problems with me kissing on Stiles at the airport, right? I just want to make sure we sell this, y’know?” Erica purred into Boyd’s chest.

“Somehow, I don’t think he’s the boyfriend you need to worry about offending,” Peter chuckled as Boyd wrapped his arms around Erica. “I can’t see Derek being appreciative of it once Stiles tells him.”

Erica relaxed, turning to fit her back against Boyd’s chest and giggled. “I can just see Derek now all uptight and pretending and failing not to be angry “Hey, Princess, what’s this about you kissing on my not-boyfriend!” Even to Peter’s fine-tuned ears it was really disturbing how much she sounded like Derek.

“Hey now, _Princess_ , you know that isn’t fair.” Boyd said, muffled by her hair. “Neither one of them seems to be able to see it, let alone own up to it. Maybe that’s a good thing right now.”

“Goddamn, you two are sickeningly sweet, you know that?” Jackson sneered from where he was standing behind Lydia, who just looked bored. God, was she even tapping her foot in impatience?

Peter wondered what he’d gotten himself into. He really did. He loved his kids, wanted nothing more for them to be happy, and since the fire, he’s thought of Derek as _his_. Derek’s happiness right now seemed to be directly linked to Stiles, and from what Lydia and Erica have told him, Stiles’ happiness is linked to Derek too.

How this led to his kids and their respective partners standing in _his_ living room discussing Erica making a public spectacle and kissing Stiles at the airport is beyond him.

Thursday night, Jackson called, asking if he and Lydia could come for dinner because they wanted to discuss something with him before the weekend. Kate had a condition that nothing would start until after Gerry went to bed, but otherwise she agreed to let them invade the home for the evening, being Jackson was his son and all. Woe unto the mortal who dared to tell his girlf..no, _fiancé,_ that her plans were not acceptable.

When he’s honest with himself (which he can readily admit is not always the case) Peter knows the mere thought of Kate and Lydia being friends, let alone possible relatives one day, scares the ever loving shit out of him.

That being said, Peter knew Lydia would be sticking around long before she and Jackson got back together again. It didn’t take a lot to convince him, just one conversation, years ago when they first dated, when Lydia asked about Jackson and Erica’s mom.

“I need to know what happened, where she is, and if she’s coming back. I need to know so that I don’t make the same mistakes, so that I can protect your child. Peter, please tell me.” Here was this small but powerful woman, gazing at him, eyes unblinking, asking for brutal truths so that she could _protect_ his son. This tiny, red-headed (possibly evil, the jury’s still out on that one) genius, sussing out every possible arena she could make a mistake in, all to protect his asshole of a son. (Peter’s not blind; he knows Jackson is an ass about 80% of his waking hours and easily 50% of his sleeping ones.)

“Lydia… she was beautiful, and young and immature. She saw her children as a way to get her paws on my family’s money. She gave me Erica first, then Jackson, and then asked for a divorce, like that was her plan all along.” It probably had been, his ex-wife was a selfish she-demon and Peter fully expected hell to spit her back out the moment she arrived.  “In the settlement, I got the kids, and she got a lump payment in lieu of alimony just to go away and never be able to ask for more. None of us have seen nor heard from her since Jax was two. If you wanna not hurt my boy, just be self-sufficient, love him for him, and don’t ever make him feel abandoned.”

He thought she’d messed up when they split, but after seeing how much work it was keeping Stiles managed and imagining how much worse it must have been when he was starting out a few years ago, Lydia leaving was the best thing for both of them. She broke it of instead of making him feel second best and forgotten, and for as much as Jackson pined, it apparently worked, because the tiny redhead of terror is back and she’s not going anywhere this time.

Boyd, well hell, Boyd was a rock for Erica to anchor herself too. He’d loved her instantly and would do anything for her. As long as he approved of this scheme, (caper? Scam? Collusion? Multipronged fallacy?) then so be it.

Aaaaannnd that’s exactly how he found himself and Boyd at the airport, standing ten feet back from Erica while she waited for Stiles’ plane to land.

Lydia had explained (in a tone that left no room to misinterpret that she was clearly dealing with imbeciles) that Stiles wasn’t popular enough to have constant paparazzi around him unless he was filming or promoting something… or if a certain someone perhaps accidentally dropped a word that a girlfriend was waiting at the airport, a-Stiles-Stilinski-who-has-no-public-relationships-girlfriend, no less, well, then maybe a few extra photogs would be present. Erica looked relaxed in casual clothes, just a simple t-shirt and jeans with a bat symbol patterned scarf hanging around her neck, not at all dressed like she was expecting cameras. Truthfully, Peter was glad Boyd was here; the man really did give off a calming presence. Because seriously? This shit was nuts.

They knew, of course, that there would be a scene of some sort; with Erica _and_ Lydia involved there’d have to be. As soon as Stiles’ flight was announced Erica took off running, but Peter couldn’t quite figure out why until he saw the top of Stiles head.

“Baby!” Erica shrieked, launching herself toward Stiles.

“Catwoman!” Stiles shouted back, smiling and looking mildly confused behind his glasses.

Peter grasped Boyd’s shoulder then, as he watched his daughter plant the biggest, wettest, _filthiest_ kiss he’d ever seen on poor Stiles. He saw Stiles’ eyes get huge when he must have noticed Boyd (did no one think to warn this poor kid what his scheming spawn was capable of? They did take after him, after all) and then tightly close, until the kiss was over.

Cameras were flashing everywhere, questions were flying, and he and Boyd swept in to escort Erica and Stiles to the car.

“Peter! How does it feel to have your daughter dating the friend of your nephew? Peter! Is your nephew going to dominate the mound this year? Peter, who is that standing with you!”

Holy shit, he’s never had questions shouted at him before. Lydia, of course… Peter was well known for his work, how she could resist tying it all together, his nephew as Stiles’ best bud, his daughter as his girlfriend? He looked up to see Boyd grin, just a little, and close his arms around Erica and Stiles, looking every bit the bodyguard. Mission accomplished, apparently everyone now thought that Erica was dating Stiles. And boy, was that public now.

Of course, once they made it to the privacy of the car, all hell broke loose.

“Erica!” Stiles…well, shrieked like a little girl (forgive him all women in his life for thinking that) and punched Erica in the shoulder. “You think you could have warned me before checking to see if they did a good job removing my tonsils all those years ago? With your tongue? In front of your FATHER AND BOYFRIEND!”

“Admit it, Batman, you liked it, you looooooved it! You want my kisses to be a flavor of ice-cream so that you can savor them when you’re all alone.” Erica simpered.

Peter looked up to see Boyd glaring towards the back seat. “Alright girl and boys, let’s play nice. Erica, if you didn’t notice, Vernon is trying to melt Stiles’ head with the power of his glare, and we cannot have that. Vernon, you know that Stiles doesn’t want to be kissing on Erica any more than you would want to be kissing on Derek, and Stiles, don’t be a baby.” Peter couldn’t recall the last time he had to pull out the ‘Dad’ voice, and he has a five year old waiting at home!

“Yes, Dad.”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Yes sir….wait, why would Boyd be kissing Derek?”

“Stiles, he wouldn’t. Now, I hear there’s a picnic?”

Peter didn’t pay attention past hearing a list of names and a park. He figured someone will fill him in on if he should be there or not, and he just saw the turn off for the house. The Plan, because everything Lydia plans needs capital letters apparently, was that they would all meet up at his place, Derek would drive over to grab Stiles, and then…huh, maybe he should have paid more attention… ah well. He’d figure it out.

After getting home, Stiles took to the yard with Gerry and his swingset, leaving his older kids to snipe about the airport and wonder about (i.e. mockingly act out) Derek’s reaction.

 

“Would anyone care to explain why Erica’s tongue down Stiles’ throat is all over my phone right now?” Derek demanded as he walked through the door.

“That sounds like a hygiene issue to me, kid.” Kate yelled from the kitchen, “Also good job knocking, go outside and try again.”

Peter hid his laugh in a cough.

“Kate, I love you, but you can bite my left nut.” Derek growled. “Erica?” This time his voice was softer, but with an undertone that Peter knew carried the threat of ‘remember when I replaced your conditioner with maple syrup?’

“Derek, why does it matter?” Erica asked from her perch on Boyd. “Boyd is fine with it, you knew I was playing girlfriend, what? Afraid of some competition?”

Peter noticed that Jackson was not only hiding his laugh in Lydia’s hair, but trying to hide himself behind Lydia altogether. His kid, ladies and gents.

“No, you…no, that is not even…Erica you…”Derek trailed off, then pivoted to stare at Lydia. “You, demon woman, this is your fault!”

“Yes Derek, I made sure that obnoxious, Gucci-drenched starlet leaves Stiles alone, that the media sees him with someone who could viably be his girlfriend, eliminating _many_ leading and entirely too close for comfort questions that were starting to crop up, and allowing you and Stiles to have ‘bro-bonding time’ or ‘family time with the dogs’ or whatever the hell you’re telling yourself it is? Yes, I take full blame for that. Asshole.” Lydia sniped.

“Peter, should I be concerned that Gerry just took a nap under a tree out here?” Stiles asked, opening the screen.

Peter was fascinated by the play of emotion across Stiles’ face, the changes in Stiles’ body as he noticed Derek. From where he was sitting he could see the slight tense and release of the man’s jaw, he could see the flex of calf muscles, even under jeans, before Stiles took two long strides and collapsed against Derek’s chest. Peter was shocked when Derek gently wrapped one arm above Stiles’ hips, spread his other hand wide between Stiles’ shoulders. If Peter strained his ears he could just make them out.

“Bear.”

“I know, I know, you’re home now, you okay?”

“Didn’t know she was gonna kiss me, god I think I’m traumatized for life. Not to mention the girl cooties. Ick.”

“God, you smell like an airplane.”

“You smell like _home.._ and my fabric softener. Huh. _Did you finally switch brands? Recognize the superiority of the snuggle bear? ”_

Peter looked around the room. Kate was in the entry way to the kitchen, Lydia and Jackson were cuddled in the big chair, Erica and Boyd were on the other end of the couch from him, and every single one was staring at Stiles and Derek, all with the same look on their faces. The look you only get when you walk in on a moment that’s too intimate to share, and you don’t know what to do because you don’t want to alert them to your presence, but you don’t want to intrude. The murmuring between Stiles and Derek lowered to a drone, their bodies stayed pressed together, swaying slightly.

JESUS! How is it possible they’re still denying this to each other, let alone themselves?

Peter cleared his throat. And everyone looked busy just in time for Stiles and Derek to separate themselves, all but for Stiles pinky now hooked around Derek’s thumb.

“So, I hear we have a picnic to plan?”

 

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much thanks to katieepretzel as always. Again, I own nothing. Hey, remember the twitter side of this fic? I sure do...  
> Gonna try and start getting the chapters out faster, as in I have the next 4 in the works already

The picnic was amazing. Originally it was just going to be him, Stiles, Gerry and the dogs…but then Lydia had her _plan_ _of_ _plans_ , so of course Erica and Boyd got added to the mix. Then Gerry _oh so innocently_ asked if his poppa and mom could come with so that added Peter and Kate. Jackson vehemently insisted he wouldn’t be the only Whittemore kid not there, so he and Lydia were in. In the end, Stiles almost sheepishly asked if he couldn’t just call Scott and Allison and ‘Mr. and Mrs. Sherriff’ to round out the crew.  How the hell was Derek supposed to say no to that? (Answer- he couldn’t, because it was damn near impossible to say no to Stiles in the first place.)

Of course there were paparazzi, but luckily they stayed a respectful distance back. It probably didn’t hurt that Boyd and John (who was in uniform and initially freaked Derek out, but he understood soon enough) immediately grabbed a cardboard box full of lunch bags and distributed sandwiches, cookies (homemade by a pregnant and nesting Allison) and water bottles to the photographers. Apparently, the bags also had notes in them stating quite clearly (with some forceful and colorful language, if Lydia was to be believed, which let’s be honest, he’s not stupid nor suicidal enough to question The Red Menace) that if the pap played nice, they’d be rewarded with good pictures and occasional treats. If they didn’t, no snacks, no pics, no dice. John’s shiny badge most certainly didn’t hurt in reminding them that he was, in fact, the law personified, even if his jurisdiction didn’t stretch quite this far.

What surprised Derek most was the abundance of fluffy little tails bounding about. Scott and Allison had her dad’s shepherd with them, an old grandpa of a dog who stayed close to Allison, occasionally resting his head protectively on her belly. John and Melissa had two dogs, a brown and black speckled mutt and a rescue golden retriever puppy, both picked out from the shelter immediately after returning from their mini-moon. Melissa explained to Kate and Peter, who were watching Gerry run around like a madman, that as much as they were ‘technically young enough’ to have a baby together, they didn’t want to have a child younger than their grandchild. Plus they were both pretty sure Scott and Stiles wouldn’t take well to new siblings besides each other.

Apparently Stiles hadn’t been made aware of his parent’s new fluffy children. “You told me you were allergic!” Derek cringed as Stiles shook his finger at John, accusation and indignation clear on his face.

“No, I told you I was allergic because you suddenly went deaf every time I asked you if you’d take on full responsibility.” John had a look on his face that Derek was all too familiar with seeing on Stiles. The Stilinski ‘I caught you not listening, you will now bend to my will’ face. “Didn’t you think it was odd that I was fine around Fred and Sasha?”

“Fine, see if I let your mutts play with my precious babies. I just thought you took allergy medicine, because you loved them so much.”

“Son, you only have _one_ dog. And only one’s a mutt.” The last bit was muttered, tacked on seemingly in defense of their new family additions.

“Father, how DARE you, I’ll have you know it took me YEARS to housetrain Scott…no offense Mellie-mom.” Stiles managed to get out before doubling over with laughter. (It’s worth mentioning that it only took Stiles a split second to warm to the new puppy after Mel whipped out her phone to show him a pic of the pup in his jammies. Derek made a mental note to look into a red hoodie for Fred, because who doesn’t love a dog in clothes, especially not one dressed like it’s owner….hmmmm…puppy leather jackets…)

As if there weren’t enough weed-whacker tails threatening the wine glasses and juice boxes, Erica produced two…fluffballs from what looked to be a giant purse. “Stiles, while you were gone I got so lonely, so I’d like to introduce you to Junior, and Misses Junior!” She held up the black one when she said Junior, and the honey one perked up at Misses Junior. “They haven’t been introduced to the others yet, you okay if I do that now?” Erica didn’t wait for a reply, just ran off into the mix of dogs and-yep, there was the G-man, lying down in a bed of puppies, face first in Sasha-fur.

“What just happened?” Derek asked, plopping on the blanket across from where Stiles was standing.

“Dude, I don’t even know.” Stiles said while sitting. “It’s like everyone had to get on the dog bandwagon or something. The pics from this are going to be great for everyone, though. Even you being all domestic, not sourface and growly grrr.” Stiles scrunched his nose and made a clawlike motion at Derek.

“Careful there, Deeb, don’t want to get your hands stuck like that.” Derek growled back.

“Bear, did you just call me a dweeb? What are we, twelve?”

“Your face is twelve!”

Stiles collapsed into the full body laugh thing that Derek lo-likes, likes so much. Mouth stretched wide and mirth dancing in his eyes. “My face is twelve? Honestly?”

“I panicked?” Derek could feel himself blushing. “Deeb. D.B. Drummer Boy, which was originally Little Drummer Boy, but it isn’t Christmas anymore and it takes a long ass time to say…so since I became Bear, I just kinda figured…but if you don’t like it.”

“Derek, no…look at me Bear.” Derek looked up, once again gut-punched by the emotion that flittered across Stiles’ face. “Deeb works. Deeb and The Bear, we could be a 70’s crime fighting duo.”

Erica came out of nowhere and flumped in between them. “Hey, if you two are done confessing your undying love, I need one of you to braid my hair.”

“I’ll do it, you know I can.” Derek looked at the sky, praying to whatever was up there that his face would stay flush-free. “I used to do I all the time when we were younger.”

“Oooooh,please tell me this has an entertaining yet mortifyingly embarrassing story behind it?” Stiles chortled.

“Batman, he had an older sister, me, and auntie had the most beautiful hair. We taught him. We also taught Jackson, but then he decided to be an asshat one day and literally knotted my hair. Laura,” Erica was laughing so hard she couldn’t speak.  Derek (unfortunately) knew where this story was going.

“Oh God. Laura got so mad at him for getting Erica’s hair so snarled that it _had_ to be cut to be fixed that she…she sat on him, and shaved his head. He looked like such a dick.”

“Hey now! I know we call him a dick, but still, be nice to your cousin!” Stiles jokingly admonished him.

“No…no Stiles, you just don’t understand.” Erica was gasping. “He was all pink and pale and smooth, and there was the wrinkle at the back of his head, and this slight point at the top. He literally looked like a walking penis.”

“We…until Peter and Dad….we were what, twelve? Laura was fourteen and Jax was eleven, and we called him PeenBoy until Peter and Dad threatened to shave all of our heads if we didn’t stop.” Derek was leaning on one side of Stiles, almost sobbing he was laughing so hard, and Erica was against Stiles’ chest, gasping for breath.  Derek could feel Stiles shaking deliciously against him.

“Oh my God, this is too perfect. Okay, okay here, just…okay, Catwoman, get your phone ready to take a picture, I need to…just, be ready.” Stiles shrugged himself out from under Derek and Erica. Derek had a suspicion he knew what was about to happen, and god he hoped he was right.

Stiles stood up, scanned the area and a wicked look flashed onto his face. “Hey! PeenBoy! Bring me a Coke from the cooler, yeah?”

Derek bit the inside of his cheek hard enough he was amazed he didn’t taste blood. Jackson jumped up, went for the cooler before turning on his heel to glare at Stiles. Erica was taking a series of pictures on her phone, but was shaking so hard Derek would be amazed if any of them turned out. Lydia looked confused, and was obviously mouthing “PeenBoy?” to herself.

“Goddammit I thought we settled this YEARS ago!” Peter yelled, removing himself from the conversation he was having with Kate and Melissa. “You just be glad Gerry didn’t hear since he’s still in dog heaven over there.”

Surprisingly, Jackson actually did meander their way, Stiles’ Coke in hand. “Listen here, I don’t care how much you mean to Lydia, to Derek or Erica or anyone else in my family, you call me PeenBoy again, there will be hell to pay, understood?” he snarled.

Derek can only assume Jackson was so focused on attempting to intimidate Stiles that he never heard Scott walk up behind him (because really, his awareness should be much better, and it’s not like Scott is ever subtle.)

“You know,” Scott said, tilting his head and staring at the back of Jackson’s, “from this angle, I can totally see it, what with the wrinkle near his neck that his hair is hiding.”

Luckily for Scott (and the rest of them honestly, Jax looked like he was seconds away from steam pouring out his ears), their blanket was suddenly over-run by dogs, puppies, and a very filthy, _very_ happy boy. “Stiles! Stiles! Did’ya see? Fred sits when I tell him, and Sasha catches a ball, and there are SO MANY MORE DOGS NOW STILES!!!! I got to play with ALL the dogs. ‘Cept Erica’s cause she didn’t tell me I could, and I always have to ask before I play with dogs I don’t know,” Gerry repeated what Kate and Peter had obviously drilled into him (the kid did have an exuberant affinity for dogs, and not all were nice so it was probably the best for everyone that Gerry always ask permission) and rubbed his hands on his jeans before turning what Derek called the ‘fortress crusher’ look onto Erica. “Erica? You are the bestest big sister ever… Can I play with Junior and Misses Junior?”

“Tell you what, G-man,” Stiles crouched down to be on level with the boy, “you go get Erica’s brush and her engine book from your mom, and you bring me and Derek Fred and Sasha, and you can _totally_ play with Junior and Misses Junior.”

Derek smiled as Gerry threw himself into a hug with Stiles. “Thanks Stiles! Hey Stiles? How come you’re pretending to be Erica’s boyfriend? Isn’t Boyd her boyfriend? And aren’t you and Derek gonna get married like the Sheriff and Scott’s momma? And like my momma and poppa are? I remember because I’m gonna be in everyone’s wedding when they get married, and if you and Derek don’t get married how am I gonna be in your wedding?” Gerry’s eyes were wide and innocent.

Whoa.

Back that truck up.

“Gerry?” Derek asked calmly, sitting on the blanket near where Gerry was still hugging on Stiles, trying not to stare at the shocked look on Stiles’ face. “Who told you Stiles and I were getting married?” Derek was very aware that the eyes and ears of their friends and family were all on them right now. He hoped that none of the paparazzi was close enough to hear and let out a small sigh of relief when a quick scan showed they were all a fair distance back, or eating, or both. There was nervous laughter coming from Allison and Boyd; Mel and John were both highly intent on the clouds; Peter and Kate were having a quiet conversation behind their hands.

“Derek, no one told me silly!” Gerry laughed, oblivious to the change in atmosphere. “You and Stiles just _are_ , just like Jackson and Miss Lydia, and Erica and Boyd and momma and poppa. You get all silly when you’re with each other, and you get happy when you look at your phones when you’re not with each other, just like them. You match!” Gerry turned then, “Oh momma! Erica needs her hairbrush and her car book!” Then he ran off with Erica’s dogs, leaving Sasha and Fred curling up on the blanket.

There was a tension as everyone positioned themselves, Erica with her legs in Stiles’ lap, her back facing Derek, book spread open on her thighs as she leaned over it, intent and focused. Everyone else wandered off, either to watch Gerry or have their own conversations, leaving the three of them alone.

Derek started to brush and section Erica’s hair, knowing that muscle memory would let him braid it or twist it into an updo without a lot of thought or effort, which was incredibly fortunate considering his current lack of brain functionality.

“So, Bear…crazy kid, your cousin.” Stiles said softly with a slight giggle, licking his lips. Derek felt his eyes follow the path of Stiles tongue. It was times like this he wished desperately that he was more fluent in Stiles’ giggles. He knew every laugh and smile; knew the difference between the ‘shit, everyone else is laughing and I wasn’t paying attention but I better think of something funny, I am an actor I can act dammit!’ laugh and the full body laugh that is pure joy. He know most of the miniscule facial expressions that ranged from mildly irritated to slightly amused, but he couldn’t yet tell the difference between a nervous giggle because he was called out on something, and a nervous giggle because he was in an awkward situation and didn’t know what to do.

Hell, Derek enjoyed Stiles company, understood him, looked out for him. They were raising dogs together, and from that logistical standpoint, marriage wasn’t too far remived from where they were now. Granted, they’d have to have a relationship that was more than a friendship, their sleeping together would have to be less literal, more fun, and maybe, yeah, maybe Derek wanted that, even though he keeps telling himself he doesn’t.

But Stiles, as far as Derek knows… Stiles doesn’t want that, or at least, not with him.

 

“Yeah, us getting married, crazy, right?”

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katieepretzel is amazing. Seriously, the turnaround time on this? All on her. She is juggling so much y'all, helping me with tweets and keeping a running 4 chapters in the air so that I can work on getting this finished sooner and out to you.  
> Thank you, every last one of you, who reads and gives kudos and comments. I don't reply to hardly any of them, but I read them, and cherish them, and squeal over them while jumping and clapping my hands like a little kid. Literally. There have been witnesses.  
> Things are going to start feeling like a roller coaster, so you know.  
> Also, I still don't own anything that isn't pulled from my own head.

All Stiles could think about in the three weeks since the picnic was Gerry’s innocent question. Were he and Derek getting married? Did he and Derek really ‘just go together’ like the other serious couples in their lives? To a five year old, was it really that simple? They fit… so they were getting married?

Why would the kid think that? What had people been saying around him; what did he think he saw?

Did other people _really_ think he and Derek were a couple?

Stiles wasn’t stupid. He knew his fake relationship with Erica came about only because something between him and Derek looked suspect, but hard as he tried, he couldn’t see it.

Maybe it was more that he wouldn’t see it. Derek was his friend, hands down his best friend, sorry Scott and Lydia. Derek understood him, understood what he needed when his brain wouldn’t stop running in circles, understood that sometimes he had to call at three am just so he could hear the sound of Derek breathing, to know he was there and safe and _alive_.

Now that Derek’s in spring training, it’s harder to do stuff like that; harder for Stiles to feel rested and sane while Derek’s gone. After the picnic he had two weeks up in Vancouver to wrap filming. Erica spent about a week of that with him and that helped a little, seeing the sights, meeting the crew, shooting murderous looks at the co-star, who was either oblivious or overly ambitious when it came to winning his affections. When he and Erica spent ‘romantic dinners out’ she’d fill him in on home, on what people weren’t telling him in phone calls and emails, the things that got lost in the shuffle of pauses and awkward subject changes and Jackson yelling in the background about how Stiles wasn’t as important as a good sexlife.

Lydia and Jackson were planning on moving in together, and Lydia dared anyone to tell them they were moving too fast. (As in she’d actually dared them all. The room was dead quiet after that, even Stiles stopped breathing as he was two phones, thousands of miles, and another country away.) This was their second chance and she knew they’d last. Red Menace that she is, Lydia issued an ultimatum - either Jackson built a darkroom in her house, or they buy a new house together. Admittedly it’s not the cutthroat Lyds he knows and loves, but she’s always been a little soft around the edges when it came to Jax. She’d also loudly and publically refused to live anywhere his exes also spent the night, so not _too_ soft.

He and Erica actually spent many a night giggling over that. From what Erica said, Jackson wasn’t with anyone during the time they were apart. It’s why Stiles knew they’d make it, because Jackson knew that Lydia made him a better person and he did the same for her. There was a certain air of contentment around the two of them that he longed to have as his own, especially when he was in a hotel room with no puppy snores and just an air conditioner hum to keep him company. A feeling that maybe had him reaching for his phone at three AM.

Scott and Allison were still arguing over names for the baby, and Mr. Argent, Chris, was talking about moving in with them. He and Mrs. Argent (a scary, scary woman, and Stiles grew up with Lydia mind you) were going through a divorce and while Allison loved her, they’d gone through some things when she was a teenager and their closeness never returned. Scott doesn’t even know the whole story.  Mellie-mom and John were helping them with getting the place set up, looking into permits to add on a ‘father-in-law’s’ apartment.

Erica assured him her and Boyd were still going strong, fake dates and _very_ real airport make-outs aside. Boyd understood what they were doing and he actually appreciated the added level of protection around Erica (score one for Lydia). He’d installed blackout curtains in his bedroom to allow for ‘alone time’ without any concern of being watched, but as it turned out, no one was really all that interested in what she was up to if it wasn’t directly related to Stiles (score on for Stiles – he thinks.)

Isaac and Danny were the surprising ones in all of this. They’d found a salvage yard that agreed to sell vehicles to Erica for cheap, and helped her scout a location for a garage to ‘practice her craft in’. Danny had tons of advice for Stiles ranging from dog training to dressing better (or as he put it, ‘finally dressing for the ass you have, Stiles, to get the ass you want’) which killed Lydia; she’d been forcing Stiles into way too tight clothes for years. A real friendship was settling.

Derek though. Stiles got back home the day before he left for spring training, and Derek picked him up at the airport at almost five in the morning. He drove them back to Stiles’ place where they immediately fell into be. Clothes still on, shoes strewn about the floor, phones left forgotten or ignored on a nightstand. Not in the super sexy way that Stiles could certainly admit to himself he wanted- no, in the bone weary, I haven’t slept well in the two weeks since the picnic way.

The picnic.

They’d gone back to Derek’s after the picnic, ate an exceedingly awkward and quiet dinner, and slept on the couch. That was it. No real conversation, no real anything other than constant and simmering need to be near each other without discussing or defining it. The next day, Stiles spent time with Mellie-mom and the Sheriff, made sure they were good, made sure they knew he was happy. Then it was Vancouver again, where he kept in touch with Derek through random tweets and text assurances about the health and general well-being of the pups. Sometimes there were random three am calls to hear Derek breathing where he would usually  wake up with a drained phone pressed into his cheek and an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach that he patently refused to look into to.

He got home, they slept, woke up, ate pizza, slept some more with movies in the background (they were both catching up on two weeks’ worth of sleep) then they transferred all of Sasha’s stuff to his house. He dropped Derek off ass early at the airport (and seriously, do planes not take off and land at decent times?) and then back to tweets, texts, and random phone calls.

Stiles realized how lucky he was to have friends with him when he was gone. They just got that Derek was his touchstone to his dog, to home, to feeling calm and safe and cared for. Derek didn’t have those people. Scott didn’t need to travel with him and Derek was staying in a dorm with teammates. Teammates who didn’t know that Stiles was his home…touchstone to home, he wasn’t his home, why would his brain even mess that up? No, Stiles knew he was Derek’s touchstone to him, unlike the teammates. Teammates who didn’t know he was gay, the ones who did knew only because of past hookups.

The first time Stiles called Derek at 2am and didn’t get an answer, it was like a knife to his spine. Numb, tingling, worry. Was Derek alright? Was Derek sleeping or was his phone just off? Why would his phone be off? It was never off. Was Derek ashamed of him, or worse… was Derek with another man?

Stiles lay back in bed, Fred curled next to him and Sasha whining and pawing at the comforter and looking lost while wrapping herself around first Fred’s left side, then his right. “Calm down girl, I don’t know what’s wrong but I’ll try and fix it, okay?” Stiles asked her, reaching out to pet the softness between her ears. He didn’t understand why it should hurt to think of Derek being ashamed of their friendship. He didn’t want to think about why it hurt to think about Derek being with another man. (Another man? Where the hell did that phrase keep coming from. With a man. Just a man. Any man. Goddamn he had to stop this.)

 It’s not like they were anything to each other. Hell, he’d an entire relationship with Isaac, it may have been short, but it was _real_ \- evenings spent cuddling or having sex after days spent together. So if Derek wanted to have some stress relief or some physical intimacy with another person, that was good, right?

If someone else got to see the way sweat beaded and dripped down that tattoo while Derek was on his knees for them, it was fine. If someone else got to see those rainbow eyes staring up at them while that stubble burned paths across their thighs, that pale mouth wet as he nuzzled their cock before wrapping his lips around them, it was okay. Thoughts of Derek, panting and sweating over someone else before coming with a growl, later laying nestled into each other, it shouldn’t hurt at all, right?

So why did it make Stiles chest clench as if it was holding his heart in, forcing it to keep beating?

Stiles rolled over and looked at his clock. As always, three AM on the dot. He snagged his phone of the bedside table and dialed Derek without pausing to think.

“’lo?” Derek’s sleep warmed voice answered, he actually answered.

“…hey Bear.” Stiles whispered. Why was he whispering?

“Deeb, you okay?” Derek asked, sounding a little more lucid and a lot more concerned.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m getting there.”

“It’s ass early, or fuck all late, why are you calling?” Did Derek sound annoyed?

“I’m sorr-“

“No, no, shhhhh…it’s okay now, breathe with me, in….and out….in….and out….”

Stiles breathed over the phone with Derek, feeling the invisible bands that were constricting around him loosen. He didn’t even realize how panicked he was until Derek pointed out his breathing, which he caught, over the phone.

“Now, why did you call, Deeb?”

“Sasha!”

“Shit, is she okay?” Stiles could hear the hitch in Derek’s voice.

“Yeah, she’s fine I think, but she won’t settle down, keeps whining and looking upset.” Stiles reached out to pet her some more.

“Shit babe, that’s all? In the morning, go get the blanket off of my bed. It smells like home to her so she’ll sleep better. I should have told you, but with your pillow at my place, and the couch and bed both smell like you…” Derek trailed off. Stiles remembered Fred’s issues, and Danny’d said he needed to smell home and Stiles to settle down-it should’ve dawned on him that it would be the same for Sasha.

Stiles quietly got out of bed, padded down the hall and wandered into the living room. Once there, he opened his backpack and pulled out the top sheet he’d taken from Derek’s bed. What? It was soft and lightweight, and he would take it out into the backyard to cover up with when he took a nap while the pups played. He only slept really well with it, because it smelled…

“Yeah, Bear, I think I got that covered. So, how’s training? Making new friends? Playing nice with the other boys?” Stiles tried to keep his voice light and teasing, tried to talk over the sounds of him getting back into bed, hoping he muffled the small gasp when Sasha immediately curled up on the sheet and settled down.

“Honestly, I’ve been working and sleeping. I lost my charger the first night, had to run out and buy a new one. The team is the same as always, trying to teach the newbs a thing or two, working on making sure my arm stays loose and strong. Other than a few beers with the guys, nothing really changed from last year, just catching up with them, what’s up with their wives and kids, being ribbed over not having any myself.”

“So…”

“Just spit it out babe, what’s really bothering you?” Derek asked.

“You’d tell me, right?” Stiles hated the quiver in his voice, but as much as he told himself it didn’t matter, it did. “You’d tell me if there was someone?”

“Fuck, is that all?” Derek laughed, stopped abruptly. “Shit, trying not to wake anyone up. Let me get outside.” Stiles listened as Derek got himself together, the door creaking and Derek’s muffled swearing. “Stiles, We’ve- we’ve not actually, been over this. It’s just not the right time for me to have a relationship with anyone. Not with the season right around the corner, and all the time I put into my career. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Goddamn.

Why did that hurt and help at the same time?

Derek didn’t have anyone else, but then, he didn’t have Stiles either, didn’t _want_ Stiles, did he? Should Stiles explain how much it hurt having Derek not here? How much his bed he used to starfish in every night dangling his hands and feet off the edges suddenly feels huge in his absence? And how the couch is cold when it’s just him and nothing looks as good or tastes as good or sounds as good without him around.

That fucking kiss on New Year’s. They should’ve just talked after, decided if it meant something or not. Instead Stiles is going to wonder until they get a chance to actually talk about it, until he works up the courage to talk and steels himself for the possibility that he and Derek aren’t on the same page. It isn’t happening anytime soon. Stiles doesn’t want to do anything to mess up Derek’s game, and between training, preseason, regular season, hopefully post-season, and Stiles’ filming schedule and stand-up schedule, fuck, they’re really only going to see each other to exchange dogs, when Allison has her baby, the summer break, and random occasions around that, right?

“Right, no relationships. I forgot, confirmed bachelor Derek Howlin’ Hale, the Wolfman. Awoooo.” Stiles snarked. Sass and Sarcasm, capitals included, he can do that. “Alright, now that Sasha’s settled _and_ I made you walk outside in the middle of the night, my job here is done. I have lunch with Erica tomorrow, promised to take G-man out for dinner, as he heard I had the Chuck-E-Cheese hook-up, and then I have a new script to read.”

“Cool. Oh, before I forget, there’s about ten sets of sticks in your junk drawer in the kitchen. I was gonna put them with your kit but I didn’t want to mess anything up.”

“Bear…you got me that many new drumsticks? Aw man, thank you so much.” Stiles could feel his throat getting thick. He tries to stop it, but how can Derek not want him and do shit like that at the same time?

“Now, off to bed with you, Deeb.”

“You too, Der…love ya, sleep well.”

“Love you too, you dork.”

 


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to katieepretzel for managing to smooth the rough edges on a chapter written under the influence of cold and allergy meds, so many cold and allergy meds.  
> Enjoy!

**Is Baseball’s Bachelor Wolf Off The Market?**

Derek spat out a mouthful of omelet once he focused long enough to read the paper waving in front of his face.

“Son, something you want to share with the class?” Greenburg snarked from behind him. Derek could practically hear the smirk.

Derek yanked the paper out of his hand and read:

_Many have noticed a change in Dodger star pitcher Derek ‘Wolfman’ Hale this season. Fans have commented that he smiles more, actually stopping to take pictures. Opponents have lamented how much harder his balls are to hit, and teammates have mentioned that he’s more approachable, much less of a ‘lone wolf’._

_We’ve all seen the pictures of him with his family and friends, dog always at his side, but is there another lady love for the Wolfman? An anonymous teammate told this columnist that as early as Spring Training, Derek was seen frequently texting someone and looking at pictures on his phone. His roommates mentioned to others that he often got mysterious calls in the middle of the night, which he would always take instantly, and on more than one occasion was overheard telling someone named ‘Deb’ that he loved and missed her, would be home soon, and assuring her that everything was fine._

  
_We’ll have to keep tabs on this, dear readers, and we’ll most certainly let you know if The Wolfman has any comments_.

“Oh man, this is-“ Before Derek could comment, his phone rang.

“Better get that man, could be Deb!” Greenburg piped up.

“Scott, I know I just saw the-“ Again, Derek was cut off.

“Dude, dude, screw the paper, it’s time, come home now, you need to be here, it’s time. Please man, I know you were gonna take a day in between series to relax but the baby! Now, just please!”

“Scott, breathe.  Okay, the hotel is only a few hours away; I’ll rent a car and get right home. Do I need to pick anyone or anything up?” Derek asked, already standing and clearing his table while attempting to flag down a waitress.

“No, just you. John and Melissa are here already, and Chris. Stiles is on his way, Jackson dropped Lydia with Stiles and grabbed the dogs to take to your uncle’s so Stiles and Lydia can be here, and that just leaves you bro. You’re family, I need you here, okay?” Scott sounded so excited and scared and Derek just hoped he could manage to make it in time.

“Yeah, I’ll be right out the door and on my way,” Derek said, accidentally hanging up his phone half way through his sentence. He turned to try again to catch the waitress’ attention and Greenburg was staring at him. “Look, Scott and Allison are having their baby, and I need to get my check paid and rent a car and just, gossip can wait.”

“Here,” Greenburg said while he tossed a set of keys at Derek. “My car’s a piece of crap, but she runs. I’ll settle your tab; you go, pack your shit and hit the road. I’ll catch the bus with the rest of the schmucks who didn’t drive and you can get the car to the stadium for me, okay? And Derek - be safe.”

Derek took the keys Greenburg was offering up, more than familiar with his car (or rather, the ridiculous noises it made when he braked, accelerated, or turned the air conditioning on). “Thanks man. But… why are you doing this?”

“Scott, he’s your friend and your family of choice. Allison just makes you smile, man, and her food makes you mellow so there’s no way in hell I’m fucking with that at all. Also, I totally owe you.”

Derek didn’t even stop to question why Greenburg thought he owed him, just he ran to his room, tossed everything on the bathroom counter and his pajama pants into his duffel bag, did a quick check of the room, and sprinted, flat out, to the parking lot. The second he got to Greenburg’s car and buckled in, he was on the road.

He swerved way to close to a guardrail when The GoGos ‘We Got The Beat’ started playing from his phone. “Hi Stiles!” he laughed. “When’d you change your ringtone? I’ve had to keep it on silent because of training, I would have missed Scott if I hadn’t turned it on before breakfast. How’s Ally doing?”

“It’s early yet; I don’t think they’d even have admitted this early if it weren’t for Melissa. As long as you don’t get pulled over by California’s finest, you should be here before its go time. Get ready to keep me company in the waiting room!” Stiles sounded so excited.

“I have every intention of doing nothing to upset your father. I swear.”

“I doubt he’d be scandalized by you speeding, please. I did much worse when I was fifteen, he’s been dealing with or willfully ignoring my rule bending for years. On that note, care to share?” Stiles tone was teasing, a welcome respite from the last time they talked relationships and he’d sounded so scared and small to Derek’s ears. “You apparently have a lady love named Deb? Hmmmmm?”

“Fuck. All I can figure is someone heard me talking to you decided I couldn’t possibly be saying Deeb, and then Deb happened. Obviously Scott is in no position to make statements for me, so I’ll just take the fifth until he’s not busy or I’ll manage to talk Lydia in to making one for me.” Derek laughed. “Anyways, you know there’s no one else for me.”

Shit. If only Stiles knew how true that was. Derek knew he sent some mixed signals, but so did Stiles, and it’s not like they had any time to actually _talk_ to each other, not seriously, not really. It seemed like they’ve had nothing but weeks of checking in, exchanging dogs, and sleep. Face time for heart-to-hearts wasn’t one of those things, especially when Erica’s there, and she’s _always_ there. Hell, half the time they don’t even formally change houses; they just have keys to the other so crashing anywhere is easy. Plus Fred and Sasha both sleep best somewhere that smells like both of them, so they end up at Stiles half the time and at his place the other half. When Stiles is gone Derek splits his time fairly evenly, and he knows that Stiles spends a fair amount of time at Derek’s too.

They’d ended up hiring a lone dog sitter instead of a service. Danny had recommended Ethan, a local vet student, but did warn them that his twin, Aiden, was apparently a canine hazard (there’d been a few biting and lost dog incidents, Aiden wasn’t malicious, just shit with animals), and made sure to explain to Ethan he was the ONLY one to be looking after the pups. Ethan knew that the pups socialized regularly with Chris Argents dog, Hunter, and with Junior and Misses Junior. John and Melissa’s dogs were only ever out to play WITH john and Mel, so that wasn’t a problem. He also understood that he would be at either of their homes, and that confidentiality was a key component to his job.

Finally, after what felt like days but was really only hours, Derek arrived at the hospital, wit in tow. He remembered where to park, that there was a shiny new birthing center that was supposed to make women more comfortable, and that he actually had to check in at the front desk and he couldn’t just run back to find Ally. What he forgot completely was that women, while in labor, were justifiably (but entirely) irrational.  

“Stiles, tell my husband he has ten minutes to get back here. I don’t care if the cafeteria told him it would take fifteen minutes to make his goddamned food; I’m not eating right now so I don’t know why HE needs to be eating right now!” Allison was not amused. “Derek, Derek, you love me, I know you do, will you tell the nurses and the doctors that I am _more_ than ready to be done with this? So anytime they’d like to stop dallying around and get this baby out of me would be _great_!”

“Allison, honey…I don’t think it works that way, but I cou-“

“Shut the hell up Derek. You don’t have a vagina, you don’t have a uterus, you don’t get an opinion and you _don’t understand._ Get me my husband or get me a nurse, NOW.”

Stiles nodded empathetically at Derek, and mouthed ‘go get Scott’. He was of relatively sound mind and body, and looking around noticed the lack of anyone else, so he turned tail and practically sprinted toward the cafeteria.

“Scott, dude, go, I’ll wait, I’ll bring you your food, just go to your wife, please…she scares me.” Derek panted. Scott looked exhausted, juggling a cup of coffee in each hand. As he drained the one in his left hand, Melissa came up and took the empty, replacing it with a bottle of water without Scott even noticing. Derek scanned the cafeteria, noting the group obviously there for Scott and Allison. The Sheriff was speaking quietly with Chris, Melissa was in her scrubs, which made sense, but Jackson, Lydia, Erica and Boyd were a surprise.

“Why are you all here? Not at the hospital, but like, _here_ here, not in the room. Stiles is alone in there with _them_ right now.” Derek said, after Scott left.  

“Derek, sweet, precious boy,” Melissa laughed out, “and look at how quickly you left Stiles alone with her. I love her, but right now, she’s in a holding pattern, and until her body powers through or we have to take her in for a cesarean, there’s nothing we can do. She told us all not to come back until she asked, or until we could ‘make a baby happen’.”

“Okay, and where’s Victoria?”

“I got that one,” Chris piped up. Derek didn’t have too much interaction with Chris; he never really saw the man outside of the wedding. “Victoria and Allison decided that it wouldn’t be conducive to a happy birthing environment. She’ll get a call sometime after the sprog is born, and whatever. She doesn’t really want to be involved.”

Derek’s heart broke a little; he couldn’t imagine not wanting to be with or around family. He was about to make a comment to Chris when Stiles came flailing down the hall.

“Guys, guys, Bear, Guys, now, nownownow, _now_ , they came in and did her epidural, and something changed, I don’t know because like, those kinds of parts are so not my forte, but now, NOW!” Stiles shot out rapid-fire before turning and running back the way he came.

When they arrived at the room in a flurry of people, they were promptly stopped at the door by a nurse. “Okay, here’s how this goes,” Nurse Drill-Sergeant snapped. “Ms. McCall is fine with all of you being in the room if you’d like. I need Melissa because she’s assisting. I need Chris and John per the request of Allison and Scott, something about involving the grandparents. You three go get scrubbed, Melissa can show you two men how it’s done. Anyone else, I need you to stay out of the way, you’re more than welcome to be in here but if at any time Ms. McCall, the doctor, or one of us nurses tells you to leave, you leave. That is not a request. Are we clear?”

There was much nodding as people got themselves sorted around the edges of the room.

“Guys, um…if any of you aren’t comfortable being here, you can wait in the waiting room. I won’t be offended if you don’t want to see a baby come out of my wife’s lady bits. Honest.” Scott said, without taking his eyes off of Allison.

“Naw man, I’m cool.” Stiles sounded casual, but the way his hand was clutching the underside of Derek’s bicep said otherwise.

“Erica, I don’t know if I ever want to do this.” Lydia whispered shakily.

“I am right there with you,” Erica whispered back. “Allison honey, you’re doing great!” She said, a little louder.

Derek turned to see Boyd and Jackson having a conversation that appeared to be nothing but big, wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and slow, pointed head shaking.

“Bear,” a hot breath whispered at his ear, “I want one, someday, I think.”

He waited for Stiles to say more, to elaborate, that he wanted to adopt or he wanted step-kids, or he wanted a surrogate with someone else when he was settled down, but that never came.  Instead, there was a flurry of activity, and counting, and harsh moaning, some screaming that he will never speak of,and then…well, then-

“Everyone, this is Charlie Evangeline McCall, isn’t she just the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” Scott said, turning with the smallest person Derek’s ever seen in real life nestled in the crook of his arms. Melissa was standing right behind him, looking proud, Chris was wiping hair and beads of sweat off of Allison’s forehead, murmuring how well she did. John was next to Melissa, looking awestruck.

“After me and Allison get some more time with her, and the gramma and grampas, we think the first two people who should hold her are Uncle Stiles and Derek, her Uncle Bear, because we want them to be her godparents.”

“Godparents?” Stiles said, shocked.

Derek couldn’t bear to see the expression that with along with it.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I don't have words to describe how amazing Katieepretzel is, nor what I put her thru.  
> I own nothing  
> Shout out to CrayolaDinosaurs for naming little Charlie, btw  
> in this chapter lets play a game of spot the HP ref.

“Umm, aren’t godparents normally a couple?” Stiles wasn’t opposed to being little Charlie’s godfather; in fact, just hearing Uncle Stiles made him flat out giddy. He wasn’t opposed to sharing duties with Derek, and oh my god, Uncle Bear! But anyway, he just, heaven forbid anything ever happen to Scott and Allison, but if Derek found someone, if he made his family and it wasn’t Stiles, would he, would _they,_ be able to function like that? And what it all comes down to is that the sort of life he wants for Charlie?

Derek stiffened next to him when he asked, but before Stiles could backpedal or Derek could get a word in, The Scariest Nurse Ever looked at him and sneered “Boy, this is the twenty-first century, you gonna try and make them conform to societal norms when they just had a baby and want two people they love to be godparents? There’s no law about it needing to be a couple, for God’s sake, just say yes!”

“I would be honored, and I’m sure Stiles is as well.” Derek spoke softly.

“Right, yeah, honored. Definitely,” Stiles stammered out.

“Just…are you really going to let me hold her? She’s so small,” Derek whispered.

Stiles wasn’t sure if his heart broke in that moment, or if it grew three sizes like the Grinch, or if it just simply shattered because it grew too much too fast. All he knew for sure was that he wanted that feeling again. That feeling that someone perfect just did something perfect and almost unreal and he got to witness it, be a part of it.

“Maybe go and eat, and come back in an hour? Can you do that bro?” Scott asked, never taking his eyes from that red, wrinkly little bundle of happiness and perfection.

“Yeah, yeah. You all coming too?” Stiles asked Erica, Boyd, Lydia and Jackson.

“Well I most certainly am, I’m only planning on waiting until I can hold and smell the baby and then you and I have business to discuss, mister.” Lydia snapped out. Jackson and Erica both looked traumatized and Boyd was so amazingly zen Stiles wanted to rename him Buddha. The six of traipsed silently back to the cafeteria and found a corner table that was relatively quiet.  The best thing about being in a hospital was that they were safe from prying eyes and ears, as long as they didn’t start yelling PAY ATTENTION TO ME I’M FAMOUS!! (And honestly, Stiles has seen it happen, it wasn’t pretty. Some people _need_ to sort out their priorities. Heh.)

“Okay, first point of order - I am _never_ sitting through that again.” Jackson stated matter of factly.

“You will if someone you love is having a baby Jax, that’s just how it works.” Erica replied in a rare display of being a good sibling, or being bossy…Stiles only had a few months of this sibling stuff under his belt, you can’t expect him to be an expert yet.

“Oh re-lax, I don’t plan on actually _birthing_ kids, Jackson. I always assumed I’d be fun and fashionable Auntie Lydia. If you want kids we’ll talk, but I just…not with…” Lydia trailed off, and Stiles wrapped an arm around her, attempting to comfort.

“Lyds, not right now, okay?” He murmured into her hair. “You’d be an amazing mom, not like yours at all, look how well you did with me.”

“I don’t know,” Boyd added while scootching closer to Erica, “Adoption’s always been a big deal for me, that and foster. Isaac and all. Plus, until recently, I never really thought I would find anyone I wanted a family with.”

Stiles looked over to Derek, who still had a shell-shocked look on his face. “Bear, are you okay?”

“They called me her uncle, Deeb. _Uncle_. I just…” Derek sounded- hell he _looked_ so broken in that moment.

“Oh, oh…Derek.” Stiles was the first to get arms around the man, followed immediately by Jackson and Erica, the four of them forming a large, albeit awkward, group hug. “After Laura, the fire…oh baby, this is a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek cleared his throat roughly, “Yes, it’s the best thing, it’s an amazing thing. I just, there’s this tiny little actual person who I haven’t even touched yet, and I am so _ridiculously_ in love with her that I’d move mountains for her, and I just never thought I’d have something like this.” Stiles hoped his body was masking how hard Derek was shaking, not trembling, outright shaking, at that moment. “I never really wanted any more family, but now…maybe? Like, one that is just mine, not that I’m just a part of. I’m not even making sense anymore.”

Stiles did the only think he could think of, he turned his face close into Derek’s neck and shoulder, and breathed; just long, slow, deliberate inhales and exhales. He hoped Derek would feel it, would slow his breathing down and relax his body, because whether he realized it or not, his body was trying to panic. Stiles could feel the muscle tension, he could feel Derek’s pulse, and Derek’s breathing that was more panting than anything else.

As soon as Derek started to sync his breath to Stiles, the tightness that Stiles felt running along his body eased. “Better?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s getting there. I just, and no offense to you guys, but I didn’t think that family was ever gonna really happen again.”

Stiles understood where Derek was coming from. After his mom died, after he came out to his dad, after so many things, he never thought he’d get a family of his very own. Don’t get him wrong, he adores Scott and Lydia and everyone else, loves that they count him as part of their families, and that they count as his, but to have a brother in Scott…a real brother… and to have a niece? Those were pipedreams. No matter how real they were now, they still felt like the stuff of fantasy.

And seeing Charlie? Seeing this tiny human come into the world? It made him want it for himself. He just _wants,_ so much. Wants a husband and a baby and a yard with a picket fence. He has a dog already; he could make adjustments to his career, hell. If he (read:Lydia) budgets wisely it’s not like he’ll ever need to work again.

Well okay, he has to fulfill what he’s already signed on for, and that puts him…geez, into next year at this point, and he needs to actually find a husband, which means finding a boyfriend… which means figuring out what the hell is actually going on between him and Derek. And he’d need to start the adoption process or find a surrogate, and Lydia would have her hands full with the press, and maybe he could keep working, Angelina and Brad manage and they are both way higher demand actors than he is, mostly he needs to talk to Derek before anything changes, and oh god, this is just too much.

“Whoa, Stiles, it’s your turn, breathe babe, just breathe.” Derek rubbed his back and Stiles could feel himself calming instantly. “It’s been about an hour already, and I want to go see her, how about you?”

“Totally, I have a niece!” Stiles looked at their friends, their _family_. “Are you guys coming?”

“We’ll let you have some time. I want to get something for Allison and little Charlie and I’m taking everyone with me.” Lydia smartly replied, touching up her makeup.

Derek stood and Stiles was thankful for the hand on his back as they approached the room. Knocking on the door, he heard a soft ‘come in’ from the other side.

John, Melissa, Chris, and the new parents and baby were the only ones there. All the nurses and techs and the doctor had cleared out.

“We figured that maybe you wouldn’t want to have to be on guard while meeting her.” Chris said, “It’s hard, hiding who you are all the time, you shouldn’t need to be that way around family.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles leveled a cool, even gaze at Chris, hoping his tone was not giving anything away.

“You two are a couple, right? I mean, I know what you said when all the staff is here, but after seeing you guys at the picnic, and… just now, I assumed…”

“It’s okay, Mr. Argent. There’s a lot of that going around lately.” Derek, Stiles noted, neither confirmed nor denied anything. Did this mean…?

“Stiles, bro, you first, come hold your niece!” Scott still had his eyes trained on Charlie, even talking to Stiles.

Walking to the rocking chair next to Allison’s bed, he sat and held his breath as Scott placed the swaddled baby into his arms.

“You need to support her little neck, and like, be super careful because she’s fragile, and-“

“Scott! I do know how to hold a newborn,” Stiles whisper-yelled, before looking down and feeling his world turn on end.

She was…perfect. There wasn’t any other word for it. Her little mouth was a cupid’s bow, all pouty and making tiny sucking motions, her eyelashes thick against her cheeks. Stiles couldn’t resist sniffing her head, all baby-fresh. She yawned and blinked slowly, revealing very dark eyes before settling back down.

“Bro, no offense, but how did you ever have a hand in something this amazing?” He asked, reaching into her blanket to rub his thumb gently across her wee fingers. “Allison, those finger nails! That the baby was born with, they came out of…how are _you_ feeling?”

“I am exhausted, but I’m a mom. It’s just so much.” She sniffled. “Are you going to do it, Stiles, will you be one of her godfathers?”

“Of course, I mean, how could I not, you made me this perfect niece and I need to be there for her, right? Teach her how to call her dad a potato, and how to work in a kitchen with you. And...I don’t know, mercilessly mock the first person to break her heart.” Stiles could hear the awe in his voice. “Bear, your turn?”

“Yeah, Deeb, you good handing her off?”

Stiles saw the way Chris raised his eyebrows at ‘Deeb’ when he looked up, but wisely didn’t comment as John offered to help.

“Son, let me grab her and I’ll pass her off, but a grand-daughter, Stiles, you know I never thought…”

“Yeah Dad, I know.” Stiles was amazed at the softness on his dad’s face when he oh so gently took Charlie. The love, the reverence, the look of a man who felt complete in that moment. Stiles longed to put that look on his dad’s face again.

He stood, handed the chair over to Derek, and felt his heart melt at the gentleness that overcame the man’s features when he took Charlie from John.  Derek’s hands looked massive curling under her head and around the blanket. If you only saw his face you’d think he was stoned, eyes at half-mast and a little blood shot, stupid grin plastered on.

“Allison, Scott, I accept. But Stiles? You shouldn’t be nearly as worried about you humiliating the first boy to break her heart as I am about me killing him.” Derek’s tone did not match the words that were coming out of his mouth at all. It was eerie to hear such harsh words being spoken in a soft lilting cadence. Hell, it was downright terrifying to hear that tone come from Derek at all.

After about ten minutes, Charlie started to fuss and Scott pulled her back into his arms only to turn and hand her off to Allison. “Guys, I think she’s hungry again, and-”

“Yeah, I’m good. I love you all, but I don’t need to see any more of Allison’s boobs than absolutely necessary.”

“I’m with Stiles on this one, no offense Allison.” Derek stood, shook John and Chris’s hand, hugged Melissa, slapped Scott on the back (much harder than was necessary, judging by how far Scott jerked forward) and leaned down to kiss Allison and Charlie. At the door, he grabbed Stiles’ elbow.

“Deeb, mine or yours, we need to talk.”

“Yeah Bear, I-I really think we do.” Stiles replied softly, nodding.

 

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katieepretzel is still the best beta around. I still own nothing.  
> This chapter, gods, it cracked me up writing it, because I could see it so clearly in my head. That doesn't mean it's a funny chapter, and for everyone who's held on this long, the next chapter, dang, just, you'll want to be prepared the roller coaster that started in the last one is in full force over this one and the next.

So here’s the thing. He tried, alright? He really honestly tried to get Stiles to understand that he wanted him, wanted a relationship with him, wanted a family WITH _HIM_ , just, wanted everything with him, but by the time they got situated at Stiles’ house and in between the light, innocent touches and Stiles’ ubiquitous murmured sarcastic comments about anything and everything, somehow what ended up coming out of his mouth was ‘Our schedules just don’t work’ and that was it. He’s spent the last month kicking himself over it.

It was technically true; their schedules right now didn’t work and they both knew it. The next time they had any amount of time with each other was the 4th of July and the All-Star break,  and that was more business than pleasure. Wii baseball for charity again, this time supporting the firefighter’s widows and orphans fund. That wasn’t actually the name of it, but it was most definitely the charity that would get Derek to agree to what could potentially be a huge fiasco. He doesn’t mean to sound like he’s trying to brush Stiles off, but Derek suspects that’s exactly what he thought was going on.

Things have been noticeably off between them the last few weeks. Granted, Derek was busy as all get out and Stiles was promoting one movie while getting ready to film another and most of their free time was spent divided between pups and Charlie. That being said, Stiles wasn’t as…cuddly? He texted occasionally, but they were more ‘checking in about Sasha’ texts or ‘look at how adorable the niece is’ texts as opposed to ‘Sasha tried and failed to take your side of the bed from me’ and ‘I miss you, look at this cute picture of _our_ niece’ texts. Derek didn’t even realize how ingrained Stiles _was_ in his life until he started to back out of it.

And it hurt.

Like a bitch.

It also hurt that Stiles response to the Conversation That Wasn’t was ‘I agree, we just don’t have time, Derek.’ Not Bear, Wolfman or any other of a million things Stiles could have called him, no, just Derek. He hadn’t called him just Derek in months, not since they because whatever they were, friends or…more. Derek knew he had to fix it, fix their friendship first and go from there, but he didn’t know how. He had roughly twenty-four hours before Stiles was home for a weekend that ended with the Wii event, and he wanted to have a game plan before then.

Admittedly, what he did next was not the smartest nor smoothest move he’d ever made. But in his defense, he didn’t exactly have that many other viable options, so yes. He called in reinforcements and figuring Stiles-specific relationship advice was the most valuable to him, gathered, at one time, in one location, Erica, Lydia, Allison and Mel. Because he was crazy. (He didn’t call Kate because she would tell Peter, not like Lydia and Erica wouldn’t, but he just…she didn’t know Stiles and him the way everyone else did.) Thus began the great Derek Hale Interrogation, the second biggest mistake he’d made in all of this.

“Derek. What. Did. You. Do?” Lydia seethed.

“I know what you did, butthead, I just don’t understand how or why.” Erica snarled, actually _snarled_.

“What am I missing?” Allison asked, getting ready to nurse Charlie.

“Derek, _mijo,_ just tell Mellie-mom what happened and I’ll make it better, as long as you aren’t a giant dick…although given the subject at hand…”

“Melissa!” Derek finally snapped. That’s it, he instantly regrets this. He took a deep breath, then another, wondering why it smelled so much like Stiles all of a sudden. Then he realized he’d accidentally called them to Stiles’ house. Not his, Stiles’.

Fuck.

“Okay. So, uhm…Beer is in the fridge for anyone who wants it. Allison, I got some of that juice you wanted but I have it on good authority that one beer right after nursing won’t harm Charlie, and Erica, the lemon water is for you.” Okay, breathe in, breathe out, and go. “Melissa, Lydia there’s wine in the fridge and on the counter, but I don’t know if I want Mel drinking…”He stalled, decided getting a beer was a good way to go. Probably the only way to go, judging by the devious look on Lydia’s face.

“Derek, why does Stiles have your beer in his fridge again? Although the better question would _be why are we at Stiles’ house_? You do know you don’t _actually_ live here, right?” Lydia asked after following him into the kitchen and pouring wine for herself and Melissa, presumably.

Hopefully.

Yes, beer is definitely the way to go.

“That’s why I have you here, I guess.” Sighing, he uncapped his beer, drank most of it in one go, and grabbed a second just to be safe before he sat back in the living room. “After Charlie was born, I told him we needed to talk and-“

“Oh, Derek…you don’t talk so good, you know this.” Erica sighed. “You didn’t actually say ‘we need to talk’ did you?”

“Yes…was that bad?”

“Derek, son, can I call you that? I’m gonna call you that.” Melissa spoke softly. Derek looked to her and saw her glass was empty already. That bode well for the rest of this afternoon…sheesh. “So, it’s obvious that you’ve never had a real relationship. ‘We need to talk’ is the death knell. ‘We need to talk’ is a well-known secret code for ‘I am dumping your ass, you have a son who is a potato and his annoying hyperactive little friend is always around too’.”

“Wow…that seemed oddly specific Mel…more wine?” Lydia grabbed Mel’s glass without waiting on a reply and returned with a full glass, the open bottle, a closed bottle, and a corkscrew. Jesus.

“I appreciate lemon water Der, especially since you seem to have…made it yourself, but I’m going with wine,” Erica said while heading to grab her own glass.

“Grab me lemon water… and a beer for when I’m done nursing Charlie. I think I’m going to need it!” Allison piped in.

“Derek, what exactly did you say to him, and please, for the love of Prada, what did you _want_ to say to him?” Lydia sounded suddenly sympathetic. Derek knew enough to know that a sympathetic Lydia was a scheming, conniving Lydia intent on ruining him.

“I was trying to find out what he wanted and if our schedules would allow for it, if I was worth it, and then-“

“What did you say?!” Lydia snapped.

“I said ‘our schedules just don’t work’, alright?” Derek shot back, exasperated.

“So what, you said that after you started talking about it?” Allison asked.

“No, no, that was the talk, right there, I said our schedules just don’t work, and he said ‘alright then’ and that was it.” Derek was spinning the cap from his second bottle on the table, then Melissa reached out and covered his hand.

“Tesoro…nooo, please tell me you didn’t. I need you to be honest with me now, okay? I know this is gonna be hard for you Su, but you need to tell me so I know if I should help you, or kill you and make it look like a medical mistake. Do you just want to find out how many licks it takes to get to the middle of my Stiles’ tootsie pop, or do you want to eat those fluffy and heavenly pancakes of his every morning after waking up tangled together?”

“Fucking hell, Melissa! You’re cut off. Lydia, take her wine, or stop pouring her wine, Jesus how can…you haven’t been here long enough…” Derek stuttered and  felt the blush creep up his neck.

“Sorry, we went out for brunch first.” Allison said, not looking sorry at all. She’d moved Charlie into her bouncy seat, and was now sipping a beer. “We may have let her have a little too much Sangria, like a pitcher… There are worse things, you know. Scott called me once, super serious. Demanded, DEMANDED Derek, this is Scott, remember, that we needed to talk, and I needed to come to his place because he just couldn’t do it over the phone and it had to be face to face.” Allison took a larger draw from her bottle. “I was terrified. He and I, we’d only been together a few months at that point. I thought it was over.”

“What happened, how did Scott fix it?” Derek asked, peeling the label off his bottle.

“I showed up, terrified and shaking, convinced he was about to dump me and fully prepared to beg him not to, speech planned and everything, and he was holding up two shirts, asking which he should wear to meet my dad. It took me outright crying on the floor for him to figure out he’d done something wrong, and even then I had to tell him _what_ he’d done.” Allison shot him a look that seemed to say ‘I can’t see either of you crying on the floor.’

“Matt… that was his way of telling me that I did something really, _really_ wrong. It generally meant I was about to be yelled at, or worse.” Erica spoke so softly Derek wasn’t even sure at first he’d heard her. Melissa had, though, based on the say she was now holding and quietly sushing to comfort her.

“Jackson’s never said it. I used it with him though, first when I broke up with him and a second time when we got back together,” Lydia said, drawing Derek’s attention back away from Erica. “The thing is Derek, as much as it’s not a good way to start a talk that isn’t a breakup, it can be worked with. I’m willing to work with you, but I need to know what you want.”

 

 “Okay,” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, screwed his eyes shut and started talking. “I think I want to have more with him than what we do now. I _know_ I do. We have awful schedules though, and there’s so much at risk if it doesn’t work, and what if he doesn’t want me like I want him. I don’t know if I can… I don’t know if I can try and have it not work. I don’t know how we’ll come back from that.”

“Derek, honey, if you want to talk to him, _really_ talk to him, I can make it happen,” Lydia smiled widely. It reminded him of a shark.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do. Can you help me not ruin it this time?”

“Nope, that’s all on you. I think I can juggle some scheduling though, if you’re willing to suffer a little.”

 

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, looks like this is getting published same day...for reasons, like S3Ep4 hurt reasons.
> 
> Katieepretzel did RECORD turnarounds on this
> 
> I OWN NOTHING
> 
> Ohohohoh- so like, I'll figure out some super special treat for whatever commenter can tell me the name of the radio show, or the news person referenced in this chapter. Hint- news dude only did sports for a very long time.

“Lydia, why am I in Minneapolis again?” Stiles said into his phone while he juggled a stuffed-to-the-brim carry-on, his laptop bag, and a coffee. “And why the hell is it so early? I swear you book my travel at the worst fucking times just to annoy me, don’t you?”

“Stiles Stilinski! I will have you know that you travel when you do because it builds much needed character! And if you’d actually bothered to read the itinerary I sent you this morning, you’d know you’re in Minneapolis for the golf-charity thing. The newscaster hosts it every year, to raise money for his cancer research charity, and he brings in athletes and actors and whomever else. You’re doing an interview with the local hard rock station, they have a car waiting out of courtesy because it’s such an early flight and you _graciously_ rearranged your schedule to accommodate them bee-tee-doubleyou, and then you’ll be picked up, brought to the hotel where you’ll meet your roomie for the night, _sorry_ about that, the hotel literally ran out of rooms, have productive conversation with him, and then do the golf thing in the morning. I managed it so he’ll be in your playing foursome.” Stiles couldn’t tell if her tone was bored or devious, but honestly neither was good when it came to Lyds. “After that, you’ll fly home, have the now annual Wii event with Derek and we’ll go from there. Your schedule is pretty set until Christmas, but we’re trying to make it work for you, okay?”

He sighed. Devious, definitely devious. “Lydia, goddess among women…what are you doing?”

“Right now? Filing my nails and talking to you, why?”

“No, Lyds, I mean what are you planning? Also, you know you said B T W, right? Like actually said the letters?”

“Stiles… just go do your interview, then just…be open, okay? Sometimes people are stupid because they ‘don’t word good’ and sometimes they’re stupid because they are blind fools who don’t know a good thing because they never gave it an opportunity to bite them on the ass. Just…if you’re mad at me at nine tonight, call me and I’ll make other arrangements, put you on the first flight home, helicopter you to Paris, whatever you want, okay? Just not before nine, Jackson and I have dinner plans.” She sighed, made a kissy noise and disconnected.

The radio interview wasn’t bad, actually. He hasn’t done in-studio interviews in a long time, but it was really nice to get to talk about why cancer related charities were important to him, the role they’d played in his life, how much they help the families. Of course, they also covered lighter topics: his latest movie, the movies he has in the works, his lack of golf skills, no, he’s never swung a golf club before in his life, not even a fake one the Wii. There was joking about ‘the incident’, exceedingly inappropriate questions about Erica (Lydia had texted him in advance, warning him to expect them given the nature of the show), asked if his friendship with The Wolfman gave him any insight on if the Dodgers were going all the way this year and then, the one he had the hardest time stumbling his way through, if Erica and the mysterious ‘Deb’ were friends. It had taken him a couple moments to get his thoughts together enough to form something coherent, and mostly he just opened his mouth and hoped the words came out while he tried to keep his heart from pounding its way out of his chest on live radio.

Goddamn he could kill Lydia and Scott for deciding the best way to handle the ‘Deb’ situation was to just not answer any question. Since there was no footage of Derek out with anyone who wasn’t already in their group, speculation ran rampant, who was she, what did she look like, did his friends not approve? For the last month all the tabloids have had to run with are pictures of Derek looking increasingly more frustrated while checking his messages or talking on the phone, all with captions like ‘trouble in paradise?”

No. There wasn’t trouble in paradise; there was no paradise to speak of. Fewer texts and they rarely called just to chat anymore, fewer nights with any semblance of good sleep, at least on Stiles’ end, just…fuck.

Okay, here’s the thing. Stiles knows he’s withdrawn from Derek a little. But what the hell! They had a moment with their newborn niece, he thought they were finally going to stop fucking around and acknowledge what was between them, what he thought they both wanted… and then Derek pulls the Death Star of relationship lines and all he had to say was ‘Our schedules just don’t work.’

Well, no shit, Sherlock. They both lived insanely chaotic lives for at least half of the year, but if you really wanted to have something significant with someone, you wouldn’t let that stop you. Granted, he could’ve, should’ve said ANYTHING in reply other than ‘alright then’. He should’ve argued his case, made Derek see that they could make it work, that he’d to whatever it took, but really what was the point? Derek obviously didn’t want that, otherwise he would’ve said anything other than ‘our schedules don’t work’. What a fucking brush off.

Of course, this all occurred to him as he was drinking water and opening the door to the SUV that was waiting outside the studio for him, leading him to spit a mouthful of said water all over the interior of said SUV. He’s smooth like that.

“You gonna get in Deeb, or just stand there like looking like a fish?”

Stiles decided to get in, but it wasn’t an easy decision. It wasn’t easy to walk straight into what he now knew was all Lydia’s doing, to set himself up for the possibility that whatever happened inside that car was going to hurt a thousand times worse than every day had since Charlie was born. And that’s the excuse he has for what came out of his mouth next, and the steely tone that accompanied it. “You know, I’m not certain what you’re doing here at all.”

“Well, it’s my understanding that you flew in ass-early to do an interview, and now we’re going to the hotel where we can talk and sleep and eat, those last two are interchangeable and the first and third can be done together, and then tomorrow, we golf.” Stiles was taken aback by how very deadpan Derek delivered that, especially given Stiles’ coldness.

“Yeeeeeahhhh…Lydia?”

“And Allison, Erica and Melissa, and Stiles, word of advice? Don’t get Mel drunk when you need to talk serious things with her.”

“Could’ve told you that a long time ago. She’s oddly loving and fierce at the same time, and she starts sneaking in Spanish words and I’m never certain if she’s calling me nice things or bad things. If you’d asked I would have told you. If you’d asked, I would have told you anything. Had you just _asked me,_ Derek.”

Derek was silent after that. Stiles looked out the window, played with his water bottle, and did his best to pretend he was anywhere else on the drive to the hotel. Derek had already checked in, so they were able to park near a side entrance and get into their room without seeing anyone else.

“Stiles, I know Lydia told you you had to talk to me…well, knowing Lydia, and after seeing your reaction, she didn’t so much _tell_ you it was me, but I know, _for a fact_ that you were instructed to talk. I didn’t want to do it this way, but I couldn’t figure out another!” Derek said, as soon as the door to the room was closed. Stiles wandered around, looking through the bedroom and adjoining bathroom and oh, was that a kitchen and living area? Lydia might be conniving but at least she’s generous with the accommodations. He set down his bags, kicked off his shoes, and flopped back on the big bed. (just one bed, because Lydia’s not that generous.)

“Alright then, talk.”

“That’s it? just…talk?”

“What do you want me to say, Der? You made it clear you didn’t have time for anything so I haven’t _pushed_ for anything. What do you expect?” Stiles was having a hard time keeping his voice level. He stared at the ceiling above him because if he didn’t look at Derek, this wouldn’t hurt. “I just…dammit! In my head, you know, I...you made me think I was enough.”

“Stiles, Deeb, will you just look at me please?” Derek shouted. “I don’t want you? Is that what you honestly think? I spent hours in YOUR HOUSE with four of the five scariest women I know, being lectured on everything I did wrong, on everything I should have said and done, and why what I did say was categorically awful. I rearranged my schedule outside of games and mandatory practices to get Lydia to set this up, I agreed to be in a golf tournament when _I don’t even like the game_ just so that I could have you to myself for a night and try and explain. Plus Lydia made me promise her a favor and god knows how that’s gonna come back and bite me in the ass.

“You are more than enough, and so much more than I deserve, and you terrify me because you have, more than anyone, the power to break me. Hell, Stiles, you already have. Not having you these last few weeks killed me. I can’t keep my head in the game; I can’t sleep; the only reason I manage to choke food down is because Allison would skin me otherwise.

“I want to make it work, Deeb.

“I want there to be us.

“I want to know that when I come home you’re there, because it’s our home, I want to know that I can call you when I’m on the road and you’ll be there, and I want to sleep next to you and…Stiles, goddammit, I want to eat your heavenly fluffy pancakes every morning after waking up tangled with you!”

Stiles sat up and looked at Derek. He carefully took in how wrecked the other man looked, bags under his eyes that were glistening with unshed tears, thinner, hair standing on end.

“…oh.”

“Oh? That’s it Stiles?”

Still to this day, Stiles has no real clue how he managed to get out of the bed and in front of Derek as quickly as he did. No clue how his arms wrapped tightly around Derek’s neck, fingers caught in his hair. No idea at all how neither of them fell down as he pressed himself tight against Derek, inhaling the scent of home and right and good.

“Bear…okay…yes…I want, I need that too. Just, it’s going to be hard, we’re never in the same city and my schedule is booked through the holidays and you…you can’t come out yet, that would be horrible for your career and just” Stiles pulled back and looked into Derek’s eyes. “Never, _ever_ doubt that I want you and that _you deserve this_.” Stiles wiped his cheeks on Derek’s shoulders, not caring if he felt his tears. “I want what our friends and family have, or will have…the fences and the babies and the weddings, goddammit the weddings, and maybe not right away, because I also want to have the sex they’re having…no, no I don’t, there are vaginas in their sex and my parents and oh my god stop me now.” He could feel Derek laughing against his chest and under his cheek. It was heaven.

“Let’s slow it down some, okay? God, how I missed being called Bear.” Stiles could also feel Derek’s smile against his head. “We still need to talk some more about this, about what we want, and in what timeline. As much as it absolutely _kills_ me to say it, I don’t think we should have sex right now.”

“No sexy-times? But Stiles wants sexy-times!”

“One, never say sexy-times again while referring to yourself in the third person, that’s just creepy, two, not right now. I fucked up saying it way back when, but you’re right, we’re booked until the holidays, so for right now, our schedules don’t work.” Derek started rubbing Stiles back, something Stiles had to stop himself from purring about. “I don’t want to rush into anything, which I know is stupid because apparently we’ve been together for months, unknowingly, but I want to be able to take my time, to break you and put you back together just to do it all over again.” Derek’s voice got noticeably lower, one of his hands spread over the small of Stiles’ back. “I want to be able to bring you to that point where you’re sweating and panting and begging me to give you more, to touch you, to lick you, kiss you or _fuck_ you just anything that will let you come just to ease you back down and bring you to that point all over again, and again…and again.

“I want you wrecked, Stiles.

“I want you trembling.

“I want you drunk on lust and satiated and then, God, and then, I want you to do the same for me.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “You now, for someone who just gave a really good reason for us not having sex, you’re not doing a good job convincing me.”

“Stiles,” Derek laughed, fond and amused.

“Okay yeah, but…what do we do now?”

“Well…wanna go to bed?”

“I thought you said that was out of the question?” Stiles pulled his head off of Derek’s shoulder to smirk. Derek placed a small, chaste kiss on his forehead.

“Sleep, Stiles. I can tell you need it, and I do, too.” Derek pulled away, eliciting a whine from Stiles.

“But Bear…you promised food?”

“Alright, order up something for breakfast. But remember Allison will kill me if there are yolks in my eggs, and I need to have a bunch of fruit, I have a list somewhere she sent me with, and-“

“Okay, that sounds super complicated… so how about I take a shower and you order food? I’ll just eat whatever you can have to make it easy. When I get out we eat, and then sleep, and then we go from there.” Stiles didn’t even give time for Derek to answer, just grabbed his carry-on and headed towards the bathroom.

Would masturbating in the shower be awkward with Derek right outside the room? Did he care?

Yes, it would be awkward, and no, no he most certainly did not care.

He washed the airplane grime off of himself and he rested his shoulders against the tile, hands running down his stomach, over his hipbones collecting water and suds.

Inhaling, he wrapped his fingers around his cock and brought his hand slowly up on the exhale, twisting his wrist at the tip to flick his thumb over the head before squeezing himself on the down stroke. He thought about Derek’s words, the timbre of his voice and the vibrations of his chest as he brought his other hand down to gently grab and roll his balls. Stroke and squeeze and Derek’s smile, twist and pull and Derek’s mouth, faster and Derek’s _lips_ and harder and Jesus what would that voice feel like humming against him, around him. Thumb under the head and being wrecked by Derek’s giant fingers and a tightening in the gut and tingling in the legs and having Derek under him, spread for _him_ , taking him deep inside and “Jesus Derek!” Stiles shouted as he came hot and hard over his fingers.

“You needed something?” A voice said from the other side of the shower curtain.

“eep?” Stiles panted.

“Fucking hell Deeb…breakfast’s here. I’ll just…be…out there.”

Stiles slid down the tiles, embarrassed, happy, and did he mention embarrassed? After a few more minutes he crawled out of the tub, dried off, and threw on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before walking into the room. Because he was an adult dammit, and what was he supposed to do in the shower after Derek went all in-person phone sex on him?

“So…breakfast, I’m starved!”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Derek chortled. “We have egg white omelets with turkey sausage, peppers, onions, spinach and queso blanco. We have fruit salad. You have coffee and I have a nice herbal tea…hmmmmm…herbal tea.”

Stiles burst out laughing at the change in Derek’s tone when he mentioned the tea. A while back Allison decided Derek needed to reduce his caffeine intake, but he didn’t want to give up hot beverages so they’d compromised on tea. And thus Derek’s obsession was born.

He climbed up onto the bed and situated himself against the headboard before making oh so mature grabby hands at the coffee and food. Derek handed over the coffee, set a tray in the middle of the bed, and then joined him.

“So…good coffee here, mmmm, delish. And oh by the way what does slow mean to you?” Stiles asked.

“It means that we go back to how things were before I screwed up epically and had the most poorly worded conversation ever, but we acknowledge that something’s there and we start figuring out where to go. It means that I’ll be yours,” Stiles reached over and took Derek’s hand while he listened, “And you’ll be mine, and no one else will get to walk in on you in the shower.” Stiles pulled his hand back long enough to smack a now laughing Derek on the shoulder.

“So, where do we stand on my making out with your cousin?”

“Hey, if Lydia is fine with you macking on Jackson…seriously, I know it’s nothing, I don’t like it, but it’s nothing. Me and Boyd will have something else in common to chat about now.”

Stiles ate some fruit and decided how best to word what he wanted to say. “Bear, if I do something that bothers you, you need to tell me. Some shit I do for my job and that’s what it is, kissing a costar on screen is in the script, I do it if I accept the script. Erica? She’s not a script, she’s a friend, and if it makes you uncomfortable or angry, tell me and it stops.” He carefully kept his eyes on his plate as he let Derek process what he said.

“For now, baby, it’s a good thing. I may want to shout to the world that you’re gonna be mine, but I’m not ready to risk it all yet. I need to know that _this_? This is permanent, and that doesn’t mean I’m doubting you, or us, it just means…”

“I get it Bear, it just means I’m Erica’s or ‘single’ in the spotlight longer, and you go back to being ecstatic about getting texts from Deb…you know, if you need a photo op, I could totally rock a dress and heels.”

Derek’s laughter allowed Stiles to relax, to enjoy his breakfast and coffee, coffee that was doing nothing to ease his weariness. “Bear, can we sleep now?”

“Oh god, please? I was just waiting on you.” Derek jumped up, stripped the blankets down and crawled into bed, laying on his side, arm laid out for Stiles to nestle into.

He did.

Rapidly.

If anyone were to ask, it took less than three minutes for Derek to start snoring. Stiles counted. It was only one minute longer than it took for a soft ‘love you’ to be muttered in the skin behind his ear, for an arm to tighten around his waist, a leg to work itself in between his, and a chest to sync to his breathing, at his back.

 

 

 

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Always much thanks to Katieepretzel, and I still own nuthin'  
> SOO many people got that Randy Shaver was the broadcaster in the last chapter. He does have a cancer research and support charity, and it's awesome.  
> The radio show was 93x's HAMS

After the golf that _never happened_ , they flew back home, same flight even (thank youuuu, Lydia!). Lydia and Scott were waiting at the airport to drive them home for a night with the dogs and each other. After that, they had to be at the stadium for the now annual Wii event. Since Derek had to be there early, Boyd and Erica were bringing Stiles along, and considering the scene they’d made inside Lydia’s car on the way home from the airport, stealing kisses, giggling and making out like teenagers (tinted windows are a Godsend), everyone agreed it was best. (It only took Lydia repeating a question three times, and Scott making oh so mature gagging noises, for her to declare that the plan-in his defense, it was very, very difficult to focus on redheaded geniuses when an adorable man with a very talented mouth was tonguing that sensitive spot right behind his ear.)

 

Waiting on Boyd, Erica and Stiles to arrive at the stadium gave Derek time to think about the last two days, in Minnesota and here at home. Last night especially…there’s something to be said for waking up to sunlight gently heating your face, arms draped lightly across your waist, and a slowly growing puddle of cooling drool on your bare chest.

Granted, “Jesus wept, Stiles! Do we need to borrow a burp cloth from Scott and Allison?” was probably not the best thing to be say in that situation, but he _had_ just woken up and drool is unpleasant when you’re groggy.

“hrmph?”

“You drool. And seriously, how’d you even get on my chest? I was behind you and I swear you didn’t move this much before.” Derek, for all his harsh words kept his tone fond and one hand stroking slowly up and down Stiles back as he spoke.

“Oh my god, Bear! You had to’ve known I drool sometimes! It’s not like we haven’t slept together before!  And I always tried my best not to move too much then because how _awkward_ would it have been for me to wake up humping your leg?” Stiles replied. At least, that’s what Derek thinks Stiles’ said, since he’d talked into Derek’s chest the entire time. He started to shift up so Stiles would roll off him when…oh…why! Hello there!

“So… leg humping, is that something you do _often_ in your sleep, or am I just that special?” He couldn’t help the sly laughter that came bubbling out of him.

“Not cool,” Stiles said, sitting up. “You, as a male with a functioning dick as far as I know, please don’t tell me otherwise right now, we can cross that bridge later, deal with morning wood just as much as I do.”

“Ah yes, but I, _unlike_ you, don’t get caught jerking off in showers. And my cock works just fine, thank you.”

“Derek, I have it on excellent authority that wood will happen whenever wood would.” Stiles blushed. “Anyways, that doesn’t count… yesterday was… and I was… you were, with the voice and…anyways, we were _both_ embarrassed by our golfing, so there’s that.”

“Fair enough. I’ll give you that, but we’re _never_ talking about the golf thing again, deal?”

“Sorry, no dice... ‘s too funny.”

 Stiles looked beautiful in bed, sheet pooled around his waist, pups curled at his feet. There was something in the easy way he held himself that Derek had missed terribly.

“C’mere.”

“Why?”

“Just, closer, c’mere.” Derek made what he hoped was a reasonable pouty face. It must have worked because Stiles angled close enough to grab behind the neck. “I know we’re doing slow, but, god, _six months_   I’ve been thinking about-” He pulled Stiles into him, ran his lips over his brow, his eyes, nose, both cheeks, smirked at Stiles’ sharp inhalation right before he pressed their lips together.

Bitter coffee and sweet fruit and sleep flooded Derek’s mouth as sucked Stiles lower lip into his, ran his tongue just along the inner edge before pulling back to nip gently. He started to pull away, but Stiles squeaked and rapidly repositioned himself so that he was in Derek’s lap.

“Wake-up kissing is part of slow?” A press of lips. “Why didn’t I know this?” A slip of tongue. “This is the greatest.” A flash of teeth. “Well, greatest thing right now.” Stiles finally stopped talking and kissed Derek properly. Derek promptly set his hands at Stiles hips, holding him back just a little, doing whatever he possibly could to ensure that they stayed in relatively innocent (though sloppy) make-out territory.

The kiss ended abruptly. “Derek, Bear, this is important.”

“Yeah it kinda is, now c’mere again,” Derek chuckled and tried to pull Stiles back. It was kind of amazing how much he did this now – he swears he’d laughed more since meeting Stiles than he had in the five years previous.

“No, seriously. I know I said it was funny, but we don’t _ever_ discuss the disaster that was that tournament.”

Stiles was right, of course. He’s already decided one of the most basic tenets of their relationship would be absolutely _no golf_. But the kissing, that was way more important. And it was much easier to focus on said macking when he wasn’t thinking about how amazingly poorly they’d done _at golf_. They were paired up with two of the radio show hosts, questions were flying, beer was open, and Derek and Stiles couldn’t touch more than a congratulatory hi-five or a or consolatory back slap.  Thankfully the charity got the money regardless of how well they did (which was not well. At all. There’s a reason Derek ‘accidentally’ lost their scorecards in the last water hazard).

 “I have arrived, everyone, better make yourselves picture fabulous because I will get your bad side if you don’t cooperate!”

Aaaaaand just like that, his pleasant memory bubble was popped.

“Jackson, you dick, I didn’t know you taking pictures for this again!” Even though he wasn’t in kissing-filled dreamland anymore, Derek still couldn’t help but smile at his cousin’s larger than life entrance.

“Yeah Lydia set it up, which I am sure is at least _dubiously_ ethical since she’s my manager too.”

“Manager… really?”

“Yeah.” Jackson blushed, honest to god blushed, even looked down at his shoes. “I’ve been branching out, doing a lot of nature and art shots. There’s some galleries that want to show my stuff, and you know Lyds. She thought I could do it, but I’d need representation, and now… she’s right.”

Jackson suddenly got very serious, and his sudden intensity was honestly making Derek a little uncomfortable. “Listen you cranky bastard, when you find that person who makes you want to be better, that makes you smile, the person you want to wake up with every morning even though they drool on your chest while they sleep, you fucking hold on to them. No matter what you have to do to make it work, the people who care about you will understand, no. matter. what. Are we clear?”

“How did you? drooling on chests-“

“You listen to me. I _never_ said that, and if you EVER tell Lydia I told you she drools, I swear to god, I will castrate you where you stand, are we clear?”

Derek doubled over and howled laughter. Dear God, does Stiles know that Lydia’s a chest drooler too? “Sorry, sorry, just, chest drooling.” Derek gasped. “Listen, I get it, and no worries, okay?”

“No, I _have_ worries. You’ve been a spectacular dick the last few weeks. I worry, because it means Stiles takes more of Lydia’s time and she gets hurt and angry on his behalf and it messes with my life. Honestly Der, think about _me_ if you can’t get your own shit together.”

Derek was about to reply when the big doors at the end of the room slammed open.

“I am ready for my close up, Mister Whittemore!” Stiles squealed, draping himself over Boyd. Of course Boyd dropped Stiles on his ass, really the only reasonable thing to do. “Ow! Bear, you gonna let Boyd get away with that? I think I bruised my butt!”

Derek just chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ torso and pulled him up in one swift motion, Stiles’ arms moving to his shoulders as the two began to walk away. Derek turned back to Jackson. “Like I said, no worries.”

They’d strolled about twenty feet when he heard Jackson’s rather loud ‘Ooooohhh, I get it now!’

“So Stiles, I hear your manager drools on her boyfriend’s chest in her sleep.”

“Maybe they should talk to Scott and Allison about borrowing a burp cloth!” Stiles replied with a lickably wicked smirk.

“Maybe indeed. Hey, Stiles,” he whispered into his ear, “C’mere, I wanna talk to you about something.”

“No!” Erica shouted right in _his_ ear, and he and Stiles jumped apart. “There is to be NO c’mere in public, am I clear? Are you two _trying_ to get found out?”

“What the hell is so bad about c’mere, and why does anyone want a burp cloth?” Scott asked from behind Boyd and Erica. Stiles never heard him coming, and jumped again, bumping into Derek who laid a hand on his back to steady him. The fact that his hand stayed went unnoticed (okay really, it just went unmentioned; his friends weren’t stupid).

“Scott, hey! Thanks for working with Lydia getting everything in Minneapolis set up; I appreciate it bro.”

“No prob bro, I just did what Allison and Lydia told me to. Mom said it was ‘in my and my child’s best interests’ to listen to them.” Fatherhood was suiting Scott well. He had on a ‘Baby’s Best Dad’ t-shirt (baby present from Stiles) with a Dodger themed diaper bag (baby present from Derek)slung over one shoulder, a baby on the other (baby present from Allison), and a smile on his face that hurricane force winds wouldn’t remove (baby present from Charlie). “Oh, Man, you gotta check this out! Jay, I need your camera over here.”  Scott set down the diaper bag and gingerly reached up to pull the lightweight blanket off of a sleeping Charlie. She was in lightweight footie jammies,  Dodger pinstriped jammies. On her back was Derek’s number with ‘Wolf Pup’ printed over it.

Derek swallowed, his throat suddenly very thick. “How…Where?”

“Chris ordered it for her, isn’t it great? And Mom got her the bow so people would know she’s a girl, look, there’s even a tiny baseball in the center.” Scott angled his daughter so that they could see the matching bow headband. “Here, I want to have a picture of her godparents holding her in this, come on, both of you.”

While Stiles and Derek were having pictures taken with Charlie, the rest of their friends and family, the press, and the fans who purchased or won tickets all showed up. Unexpectedly, the requests for pictures with Charlie outnumbered the requests for him and Stiles, but then, Charlie was far cuter. Except for Stiles. Not even his goddaughter could beat those little brown moles and oh so perfect mouth.

They managed to hit some balls outside, Stiles’ bat handling technique and pitching much improved over last year, and there were no ruined televisions this time either.

All in all, Derek thought the day had gone shockingly well. Course, they were probably due after the golf catastrophe. Stupid golf.

 

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I ever tell you the story about how I let real life, my health, and a wicked heat wave get in the way of my writing? True story!  
> Katieepretzel is awesome, just sayin'...enjoy, and thank you for sticking with me

The last month has been spent wrapping up one movie and starting another. Going from Vancouver to Louisiana swamps was a shock to his system, being away from Derek was a bigger shock to his system, and living out of a trailer on the back lot of this godforsaken little town they’re filming in put his system in hell. He’s all for accuracy, he really is, but Louisiana swamps in the late summer are so not for him (or anyone besides alligators and suspiciously large mosquitos, really. But no judgment).

To be fair, he did sneak away for a few days in New York with the gang to watch Derek pitch against the Yankees and spend time with him and everyone else… and if that wasn’t the most awkward weekend of his entire life, then he _seriously_ doesn’t know what is.

“Hey there Stilinski,

How’s the set and do you miss me,

You’re a thousand miles away

And right now I’m feeling pretty shitty, yes I do

I just can’t function without you

Oh yes it’s true

 

Hey there Stilinski,

Don’t you worry ‘bout the silence

You’re leaving me this message

And I can give another listen

When I’m alone

With nothing but our dogs by my side, goddamn my pride

OOOOOHHHH I MISS YOUR ADD

OOOOOHHHH I MISS YOUR ADD”

 

“Stiles, what the ever-loving fuck are you doing?” Isaac said, walking into the trailer. He stopped next to the couch to throw his (rather disgustingly smelly) over-shirt on to the back,  curiously piqued look on his face. “Are you _singing_ into your phone?”

“What? No, that’s ridiculous, absurd, preposterous even!” Stiles said, shoving his phone in his front pocket. “Why would I be singing into my phone?”

“I don’t know, Stiles, I really try not to think about why you do _anything_ when you’re not around Derek. And uh…I think you never turned it off.”

Stiles quickly fumbled for his phone in its canvas prison, damn costuming people thinking pants should BE that tight. “Shit Isaac, now Bear’s gonna have me singing for twenty seconds and then like, a minute of my penis rubbing all up on him…wait no, that’s _not_ what it sounds like.”

“And yet, the phone is still on,” Isaac laughed.

Stiles finally managed to get his phone out of his pants and quickly jabbed at it to disconnect the call, a blush spreading across his face. “Yeah so not to be rude, but why are you here?”

“I wrote the movie, remember?”

“I meant in my _trailer,_ smart ass.”

“No Stiles, in many coffee shops, my apartment, your bed even, but never in your trailer.” Isaac’s clearly spent entirely too much time with him, given his recent leveling up to black-belt in sarcasm. “You do know Derek’s playing the Yankees the next three nights, right?” Isaac was looking at Stiles like he was a moron.

“And?”

“And that tomorrow’s game is in New York?”

“I repeat, and?”

“ _God_ , Stiles. We’re flying to New York, staying at my place there, seeing everyone and watching your boyfriend throw some goddamn balls!”

It sounded too good to be true, and so Stiles put his ‘I don’t believe you why would you hurt me like this don’t you love me’ face and his skeptic hat on and stared. “Really. We’re going to New York. This weekend. Really.”

“ _Yes_ , Stiles.”

Stiles still wasn’t convinced. “Really. What’s in it for you, my would-be generous benefactor?”

“You mean, other than my not having to listen to you bastardize ‘Hey There Delilah’ again?”

Still staring.

“Stiles, my boyfriend is in the city too. We’re going because I want to, saving you from yourself is just a fringe benefit.”

“Really?! My _hero_!” Stiles fake swooned.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll even let the two of you take the master bedroom. Not like I need to worry about you having sex in my bed or anything.”

“Fuck you, we so could, if we wanted…we just…” Stiles trailed off.

“No, I get it, I wish I didn’t know about it _at all,_ but I support it. I do.” Isaac set his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “You guys want to make sure it’s more than just a fuck, I can appreciate that. I mean, if we’d used our brains you and I may never have happened at all. Not saying that’s a good or bad thing, just that things between us didn’t exactly end well.”

“Yeah, but you and I are friends now, we’re good, right?”

“Yes, Stiles… but you and Derek, you two know each other in a way we never did. You two click in a way we didn’t.” Isaac paused, voice softening. “The truth is, I wouldn’t have even gotten near you if I hadn’t been vehemently assured you two weren’t together. You two… you have something, something that no one else could possibly compete against.” Isaac kissed the top of Stiles head. “Now, get a bag together, we need to be ready to fly in an hour.”

And while not pleasant, Isaac walking in on him singing into his phone? Not even _close_ to the most embarrassing part of the weekend.

Once they arrived in New York, Lydia, Scott and Allison met them at baggage claim-

“Dear god Stiles, how much shit do you need for one weekend?” (Allison)

And

“Actually, I think he’s traveling quite likely, considering his _predisposition_.” (Lydia)

And

“Excuse you, way to stereotype!” (Him)

And

“I meant as an _actor_ , with a _heavy_ predisposition to pack your entire like in your suitcase Stiles, I should know, I normally oversee your packing!” (Lydia again, and truth.)

 -they all went to Isaac’s (rather large, you’d think he was a successful writer with a major feature film in production and another one in post-production or something) apartment together. Isaac showed them where they’d all be sleeping and then left to see Danny, who was working with some dogs on a sitcom filming not too far away. Scott had some calls to make about Derek and disappeared into Isaac’s office - leaving Stiles, Lydia and Allison alone.

“You two gonna be okay without Charlie for a weekend?” Stiles asked, removing his laptop and power cord from his leather messenger back and setting them on the table.

“I should. Dad has a cooler of pumped milk, all of John and Melissa’s numbers, and I think the cell number of everyone who’s going to be here.” Allison sounded distant, even though she was standing right behind him.

“I didn’t ask about Charlie or Chris. How are _you?”_

“Oh Stiles, I just don’t know. I mean, Dad raised me so he has to know what he’s doing, right? And I have the pump with me, so I can keep pumping but it’s not the same as feeding her and holding her and did you know that the nap on the plane is the longest I’ve gone without waking up since she’s been born? I enjoyed it… does that make me a bad mom?”

Stiles jumped up from his chair, intent on hugging Allison, and shocked to see that Lydia beat him to it. Screw it; he wrapped his arms around both of them. “Ally, you are an AMAZING mom, and you _deserve_ a weekend away. It isn’t a bad thing at all. If you just want to do nothing but sleep, and eat and drink whatever you haven’t been able to because it makes Charlie fussy, or it isn’t good for your milk, or…I don’t even know how this all works, to be honest, just, let me know, alright?”

“Allison, I need you to listen.” Lydia said, quietly but firm, steel evident in her voice. “You are not a bad mom. Taking time away from your child once in a while is not bad. You don’t need to spend every minute with her to prove you love her, and when you are away, you gave her to your dad, not hired high priced _au pairs_ who would take great technical care of her, but not love her. When she gets old enough, she’ll travel with you and Scott, but until then, you’ll make it work with you staying home as much as you can, like we talked about. The nanny you’ll find will love her like she was their own, too. You are not becoming my mother, okay?”

Woah. Stiles apparently missed Allison and Lydia bonding over Lydia’s childhood. He is glad that she’s sharing more with their friends, but he’s also glad he wasn’t there to listen to it again. It enrages him the way Lydia was only used as a trophy daughter. (Although, maybe they bonded at a sleepover with lingerie and pillow fights and eating whipped cream off each other’s fingers and regardless of ANYONE’S sexuality that is a really nice mental image….Jesus he really needs to get laid, or have some ‘alone’ time.)

“Okay, it’s getting heavy in here. Scott’ll freak if he comes in and you’re sobbing, so let’s look at some stupid cat videos until we feel better!”

“Lydia, please tell me Stiles doesn’t have stupid cat videos saved on his laptop.” Allison sighed as they all got situated (hehehe…rubbing off…shit he _seriously_ needs to get laid).

“Allison, I love you too much to lie.” Lydia…giggled? Damn, they’re really rubbing off on each other in his absence.

Stiles clicked through his folders, looking for the file. He renamed it recently when he was paranoid about someone going through his laptop, but he can’t remember what he renamed it. Ah-ha! Finally, there it is, ‘nice times here.gif’. Open!

Well shit.

That’s Derek’s ass, bouncing in tight black jeans.

Not a cat video then.

“Stiles,” Lydia said, tilting her head, “not that I’m complaining, because I am most certainly not, but why are we looking at your boyfriend’s ass?”

“Stiles,” Allison said, tilting her head as well, “is this a continuous loop?”

“Hmmmmm? Oh, yeah, we were clearing out the attic at my place ‘cause I was thinking I might change it around into an office or something, and I was just innocently sitting on the floor sorting photo albums and BAM! Derek’s ass, right there. I couldn’t resist filming … I mean, damn!”

“So, like, you get to see that every morning?”

“Not for a while, our schedules just don’t work yet. Soon though.”

The three of them sat and watched the image for a few minutes, Stiles was getting ready to close the window out when Scott suddenly spoke up from behind them.

“Hey, is that Derek’s ass?”

Stiles slammed the laptop shut. “Scott, hey bro! How’re you doing?”

“Seriously, were the three of you just sitting there watching Derek’s butt jiggle?” Scott sounded so confused.

“No idea what you’re talking about, bro.” He said _praying_ he didn’t blush. “So, what’s the plan here?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I came out! We’re going to go pick up Jackson and do lunch, then we’re heading to the stadium. Isaac and Danny are coming to pick you up in a few hours; your tickets are waiting at the box office. After that, you come back here, eventually Derek makes his way back here from the stadium, hopefully not still sweaty-“

“Hey! Speak for yourself!”

“- _and_ everyone else is just leaving you guys alone, to not do what you don’t do.” Scott waggled his eyebrows.

“I think you’re all getting _way_ too much enjoyment out of my not having sex.” Stiles pouted.

“Well, someone has to enjoy it, lord knows you’re not.” Lydia laughed as she walked out the door.

All of the sudden, the apartment was empty. Just like that, Stiles had a few hours alone, a laptop full of pictures and videos of _his boyfriend_ , god that made him giddy, Derek, his _boyfriend_ , and brand spanking new plans of what to do with them.

He slowly got up and locked Isaac’s front door, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and situated himself on the couch, laptop open on the coffee table. As he shucked his pants, he thought he felt his phone vibrate but ignored it, because nothing could be as important as what he’s got on tap and besides, he totally set it back to ring after Scott scared the crap out of him.

He sat down, opened the file that was labeled ‘Exclamation Point’ (yeah, he wrote it out) and took himself in his hand. Pictures of Derek in all manner of dress and _un_ dress and screen caps of their Skype sessions slide-showed across his screen. As much as he and Derek were taking it slow, they decided that phone sex, Skype sex, hell any sex that wasn’t actually touching each other, was fair game.

So naturally, he had a lot of images, mental and otherwise, to jack off to. And if he didn’t know Derek was getting ready for a game right now, he’d call, just to hear that voice in his ear, telling him how delicious he sounded, how it was only four and a half more months until they could finally be… _together_. Four and a half more months until they could have their hands and mouths and bodies all over each other. Four and a half months was both an eternity and god, just around the corner.

Stiles was just getting a good rhythm going when he heard a click in the door. Jumping and covering himself with the towel (thank god he had the courtesy and forethought to protect Isaac’s couch from suspicious stains), he slammed the laptop shut again, just in time for an older man in coveralls carrying a toolbox to walk right through the door.

“Goodness! Mr. Lahey never said anyone would be home, I’m sorry, I’m just here to unclog the sink, carry on.” The maintenance guy said.

Carry on!

No.

Nope.

Nein!

There would be no carrying on.

Stiles sat there, trying to kick his pants under the couch without being noticed, hoping the towel covered everything, trying to press down his obvious erection, hoping the maintenance dude wouldn’t see.

Fuck.

He waited until he was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure that the guy was under the sink screwing something or unscrewing something or doing whatever the hell it was he was doing under there, and likely to be there for a while, to reached down and snag his pants. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and was about to dial Isaac when he noticed he had a text.

“Stiles, hope you changed your phone from silent. Maint. Guy coming. Told him it was ok.”

Well, thank you Isaac.

This weekend couldn’t be over soon enough.

 

 

 


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wouldn't happen without Katieepretzel, who encourages me when all the words for this particular endeavor get stuck in my brain, and for parsing out all the words I manage to not write.   
> Thank you to all of you who are sticking this journey out with me.

“Stiles!”

“Ughrghugh,” Stiles groaned.

“Stiles! She rolled over!”

“Scott buddy, that’s way more than I needed to know.” Stiles sighed, trying to shake himself awake enough to squint at his alarm clock until the numbers unblurred enough to read, jesus _one_ in the morning, phone propped between his ear and shoulder.

“Ugh no, you ass, Charlie rolled over, and it was amazing!”

“And I’m so proud of her, and you, for not crying….you’re crying right now, aren’t you?” Stiles sniffled, ”never mind dude, I’m proud of her. But maybe, just maybe you could wait till sunrise to call the next time she does something amazing?”

=+=

“’Lo?”

“Hey Bear.”

“Everything okay, Deeb? It’s like 4:30 in the morning.”

“Shit, sorry. Forgot about the time difference. It’s just… I hate press junkets, and having to be in New York for interviews when I’m about to wrap in Louisiana is fucking with me head.”

“s’okay, knew it was you…need anything?”

“Just wanted to hear you. How’re the pups?”

“Getting too big to be called pups, even though they _are_ still puppies. I think Sasha and Fred are somehow taking up more of the bed than you do when you starfish.”

“You getting the couch soon?”

“Next month I think, I can probably put it off that long. You really not gonna be home until around Thanksgiving?”

“Well, it’s September baby… after I wrap I have a small stand up tour, then another shoot starting up in Vancouver. I made the producers promise that I’d be home for Turkey Day, no problem. Dad and Melissa staying at my place this year?”

“I wish. Scott sold them on staying at mine, it’s why I need the new couch. I just hope that whatever I get will look good at the house, too.”

  
“IKEA, Der. I know the store has way too much stuff for your delicate Spartan sensibilities, but just consider it. Their couches have machine washable covers!”

“Oh my god! I do not need to think about John and Melissa having sex on the couch!”

“FUCK! I didn’t mean thaaaaaat, I meant for the dogs. Oh dear GOD the image WHY DER. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME DO YOU NOT REMEMBER LAST YEAR?!”

“Oh jeez, stop pouting…big baby.”

“Not pouting,” (he was totally pouting) “look honey, I gotta run, some morning show or something. If you need help picking out a couch call me and I’ll talk you down from the wonderful world of the living room section. Can’t have you having an IKEA drop unsupervised. For now, go try and get some more sleep, eat good food, and I’ll talk later.”

=+=

“He told me to eat good food…was he saying I’m fat? He’s around all those stupid, vapid actor types, what if he thinks I’m fat now?”

“Oh my god, Derek, last I checked I was the woman in this family, not you!”

“Erica, I’m serious, I barely get to talk to him right now because he’s super busy, I’m all out of sorts since I’m not playing anymore, and I just…” Derek sighed loudly. “I’ve never had something that had the potential to be serious before.”

“ _Potential_? You don’t think this IS serious already?”

“It’s not like we’re _actually_ dating yet, you know we decided to wait until after he’s home.”

“Okay, let’s break down your _pregnancy-_ like ball of crazy _._ First, he knows it’s your off season so he wants you to actually enjoy yourself instead of living on grilled plain chicken and unbuttered steamed broccoli, that’s what the good food comment meant.

Second, assholes, literally only the two of you seem to think you aren’t dating. Sure, you aren’t having sex but you’re totally dating, you have been like,...for EVER!”

“Whatever Blondie….I just…you can spend more time with him than I can right now, and it sucks.”

=+=

“Boyd…”

“What the hell, Stiles, are you seriously calling to brag about having my woman around? Because, and I want to make this shit clear, I am not above beating your skinny ass!”

“Boyd, could Erica be pregnant?”

“…”

“Boyd?”

=+=

“Lydia, it’s Boyd… why would Stiles call to ask if Erica could be pregnant when _he’s_ been with her every weekend?”

“You’re all idiots.”

=+=

“Erica, did Boyd knock you up?”

“Hi Lydia! How are you? Thank you so much for scheduling all of these weekend turnarounds for me to spend time with Stiles, and for the opportunity to listen to him mope about how ‘it’s only _a few more days_ until he’s home for Thanksgiving’, I really appreciate the lack of sleep, but the added study time is a dream! What was that, you were calling to check on me? How sweet!”

“Seriously, I need to know.”

“Lyds, two things, one, don’t you think this could have waited until I was home, and two, don’t you think I would know if I was pregnant?”

=+=

“Ally, how’d you know you were pregnant?”

“I peed on a stick, threw up and sobbed, then went to the doctor, why?”

“Yeah uh, no reason.”

=+=

“Hey Kate, I need you to pick me up at the airport. I know I told Derek he could, but I’m changing my mind. Also, can you bring a pregnancy test?”

“Excuse me, WHAT!?!?”

=+=

“Dad! Bad news, I’m not sure Derek’s going to get the right couch. I told him to get the one with the machine washable covers but I just looked and apparently IKEA makes ones that are dry clean only! Why would they _do_ that? I mean, for god’s sake! And they don’t print it on big labels and you know how Derek feels about fabric, he’ll just pick one that _feels_ good without looking at the label, and then we won’t be able to wash it!”

“Son, are you drunk?”

“…maybe.”

=+=

“Deeb, I miss you.”

=+=

“Jackass, sorry, I mean Jackson, I’m getting on a plane in an hour, and I was told you would be there to pick me up, why isn’t Erica doing it? She came home early because she was supposed to pick me up, and Derek was supposed to pick _her_ up and he didn’t and do you think they had a fight over couches? Couches are serious business man.”

“Whatever.”

=+=

“Bear…the plane is taking off in five, I’m almost home. So close to seeing you. I lo-like…I’m so glad.”

 

 


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A chapter?  
> Seriously, I'll try not to have a 2 month gap before the next posting.   
> Katieepretzel is still awesome, and if you are still with me in this, so much graitude

It was, as Stiles liked to say, “ass-early in the morning” and Derek was in the middle of pounding out his morning six-miler on the treadmill currently in the living room. Stiles was ( _very_ vocally) less than pleased to come home and find his favorite snuggly, comfy chair moved for “Stupid, Derek. Exercise equipment in ones own hime is stupid. AAAAaand possibly sacreligious, we might be smited..smit...smoten...” treadmill, but warmed up to the idea when Derek pointed out that it left only the couch for them to sit on, all wrapped up around each other.

Derek was halfway through his final mile when Stiles shuffled past looking like a half-deranged zombie. He was moaning something that sounded remotely like ‘coffee….need coffee want coffee love coffee cherish the coffee would fucking marry coffee where the fuck is the coffee…’ his feet and chestwere bare, hair sticking up in all directions, Derek’s rattiest flannel pants barely hanging on the jut of his hips.

Jesus help him, he was in love with this man.

“I didn’t turn the pot on yet, I didn’t want it to wake you up, Deeb. Why _are_ you up?”

“Coffee?”

Derek did his funny jump up and hop onto the non-moving sides move (that Stiles _always_ made fun of) to get off the treadmill, jogged over to the coffee to turn it on, then hopped right back to finish his run before the cooldown. No need to admit to the prerun thermos of coffee he stored under the counter. He isn’t functional in the mornings without it, but he honestly didn’t want the coffee smell to wake Stiles.

“Ten minutes or less, babe. Now why are you up?”

“The girls are all acting strange, and I keep getting cryptic fucking texts and phone calls, and this is the first major holiday that Dad’s been married for since Mom died, and what if Lydia doesn’t like the stuffing because I literally tossed it together last night after getting home from a cross country flight and Kate kind of scares me, is she gonna be there? And it’s a family thing and for the first time in years I have no clue what to call Mel and I am terrified that you’re going to decide I am not worth this and why the hell are you running on thanksgiving instead of sleeping?” Stiles took a breath and added with a grumble, “You know how I feel about that stupid thing.”

“Hey now, just breathe for me…” Screw the cooldown, Derek stopped the machine and walked to Stiles, guiding him to the kitchen from behind. “Mel doesn’t care what you call her, Kate scares me too but Peter loves her so what're you gonna do? Plus she’s an awesome mom to Gerry and they’re getting married which is awesome, right?” He poured Stiles a large mug, making sure to add peppermint and chocolate milk( he'd made the mistake of suggesting plain coffee around the holiday _once;_ he won't do it again.) “Lydia will love the stuffing, you could make it in your sleep while ON a plane, and it would be awesome. As for the rest,” Derek lowered his voice and spoke softly, “I'll never think you're not worth it, I swear”

Stiles drank his coffee, humming in thought and not looking at Derek.

“Hey stop it, stop making trouble where there isn’t any. I only have you for a few days and most of them are going to be surrounded by family, so just…be here now, with me, okay?” Derek set his hand on Stiles’ hip, thumb rubbing on the skin right above his waistband while he pulled him close. “We have three hours until John and Mel show up, and since you’re awake, I want to spend time with you, alright? No stupid treadmill or anything.”

Derek was pretty certain he'd been planning on saying something else, likely something stunningly romantic and perfect that would make Stiles swoon, but he opened his mouth, and there was a tongue and lips that weren't his, coffee flavored and Stiles flavored and warm and wet and pressing into him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, tongue along the roof of his mouth, his own tongue being sucked on only to have the lips and teeth and tongue pull back and warm breath on his neck.

“Shut up you... _coffee hoarder._ ” Stiles laughed (and if that isn’t just one of the best sounds) before biting along his jaw, his neck, placing a kiss over the divot between the collarbones and then handing him the coffee mug. “Hold this, hasn’t spilled yet, it’s good and I promise I’ll want more in just a few moments.”

“What the hell? Oh…OH! Well, then, I’ll just…..hold….God Stiles!” Derek managed to push out on harsh breaths as Stiles dropped to his knees, snagged the waist of his running shorts, dragging them down over his thighs. The cool air of the kitchen around his naked skin was soon replaced with the heat, the _god_ unbelievable heat of Stiles’ mouth. There were fingers pressing into Derek’s hip, holding him still, and more fingers touching, holding, rubbing and rolling his balls. That beautiful, sarcastic, snarky mouth and tongue were licking, sucking, bobbing along his length, stopping only for Stiles to breathe in a shuddering breath and go deeper, faster, somehow harder and wetter and filthier and Derek _had_ to put the coffee on the counter, to lean on the counter, look up at the very, very interesting kitchen ceiling, do anything other than gasp and shudder and stare at this beautiful man over the rim of a coffee mug. Except anytime he did anything that wasn’t hold the mug and take it, Stiles would stop (because he is _wicked_ and _evil_... and probably because he really hates that treadmill, who even knows.)

Soon, too soon, a million years from the moment it started, Derek honestly didn’t know, he could feel his thighs tense and start to jump, his hips were stuttering, straining against Stiles hand, the cooled coffee in the mug sloshed out over his fingers. “Stiles, I’m-”

“You better.” Stiles stopped long enough to say, before slightly changing the angle of his neck and, as far as Derek could tell, swallowing until he had all of him in his mouth, his throat, warm and tight and hot and wet and dear _god_.

Derek was leaning, slumping, bonelessly listing against the counter when Stiles stood, grabbed the mug and drained it.

“So, you said we had three hours until Dad and Melissa get here? Then what, we head to Scott and Allison’s place?”

Derek may never understand how Stiles’ brain works.

-+-

Immediately upon entering the McCall home, the banter started. Derek doesn't even know why he's surprised.

“Dude, do you have the stuffing?”

“Oh, I _have_ stuffing!”

“That’s what she said!”

Derek used hanging up their jackets to hide his laughter at Stiles and Scott. Sometimes it amazed him that they were successful adults.

“Lydia, I brought the stuffing you asked for, who’s your favorite actor?”

“Stuffing?”

“You know stuffing, Lyds, traditional American carb-loaded Thanksgiving side? I make it with the cranberries, pecans and that cornbread you love?”

“Oh…oh god, I’ll be right back.”

Derek quickly side-stepped as Lydia ran past.

Stiles took that moment to oh, so astutely comment.“Huh, wonder what’s up with her?”

Allison and Kate looked really wide-eyed, and Erica shot up from her seat to follow her. Stiles grabbed his hand and started walking ( dragging him, really) down the hall, while muttering about wanting to see Charlie in the nursery.

“Lydia, you need to do this, and you need to do it now.” Erica was speaking, harsh but quiet. Derek turned to suggest to Stiles that they wait to see Char, not eavesdrop on an obviously private conversation, only to be sushed by Stiles before he even started talking.

“No, no, it’s nothing, even if it were, it’s Thanksgiving, the stores aren’t going to be open, and just, no... what, I should just do this in Scott and Allison’s bathroom? That doesn’t seem _at all_ weird to you?”

“First, I have one in my purse you can use, second, yes, where else would you? Third, you need to do this, you’ll feel better once you do, I promise.”

“So what, you just carry extras around with you like gum now? And you’re just gonna whip it out, right here and now?” Lydia sputtered.

“Are you talking about vibrators at Thanksgiving? I have mixed feelings about it if you are.” Stiles admonished as he tumbled them into bathroom. Aaaand that's his boyfriend (lover, partner, mate...who even says mate? Whatever.), ladies and gentlemen.

“Boys! What are you doing here?” Erica asked, while making a ‘go away’ motion at Derek.

“Well, we _were_ gonna see about waking up Charlie, but I am way more interested in seeing what Erica manages to whip out of her Mary Poppins purse. I mean, seriously, there are only a handful of things that I can think of and, wait-Holy shit! Are you pregnant!?” Stiles yelled.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh!” Erica and Lydia both hissed. Erica narrowed her eyes at Stiles, and in a voice that Derek remember well from many of his childhood nightmares (adolescent...teen...young adult...okay as recently as last week because Erica can be fucking frightening, alright?) admonished, “What the fuck, Stilinski? You can't just fucking scream the word pregnant, were you raised by wolves?”

Lydia placed her hand on Erica's arm, stopping what would've undoubtedly been just the beginning of a very long rant that had the potential to insult everything to up to and including Stiles' family, talent, taste in beverages, hairstyle, and choice in footwear.

Erica took a deep breath and looked at Derek, a vulnerability that isn't often seen in her eyes, and spoke again in her normal tone. “No, I’m not, I mean, I thought I was, but that was just stress and silliness and it was nothing, like, five minutes after I peed on a stick at the airport my period started, and you didn’t need to know that, but no, not preggers, Erica and Boyd are closed for business, not happening. I’ll shut up now.” Erica rambled. Derek had to bite back a laugh as she pulled a Monster out of her purse and downed it.

“Stress? Is this too much for you, on top of school? Is this your way of telling me you’re breaking up with me, say it ain’t so! Bear, hold me!” Stiles collapsed dramatically against him, laughing.

Derek almost let him drop out of spite but grabbed on when Stiles hit him.

“Wait...Lydia…are you?”

Lydia sniffled, shrugged, and slid down the wall. “Maybe? Like, Stiles’ knows, because lord knows he and I overshare everything, that I’ve always been irregular, and I take the pill but I may have forgot, and people were talking about pregnancies and we all thought it was Princess E here, and y’know, I haven’t been feeling hot, I’ve been tired and achy and snappish and I thought it was just stress, but then I started getting sick, like, a lot, and food and just, oh my god.”

Stiles reached forward and grabbed Erica’s purse, rifled through it and muttered about how what can be seen can never be unseen. After he found what he was looking for he pulled his hand from the bottomless pit with an 'Aha!' and handed a box down to Lydia.

“Do you need me to wait Lyds, or go and act like nothing happened in this hallway, or should we get Jackson? Does he know?”

“Okay, here's what we're going to do. We've already made too much noise and god knows we have seconds, _maybe_ minutes before someone comes down all uninvited like you two.” Lydia glared, and Stiles had the good graces to look mildly sheepish. “I’ll go pee, Stiles can come in with me. Derek, can you and Erica just wait there and stand guard? I want to tell Jay after, but I might need you.” With that, she stood, grabbed Stiles, and walked into the bathroom.

Need them for what, exactly? Derek knew that he was likely not as well versed in how pregnancy scares work as some other guys, but he is absolutely certain that there are way more than the required number of people involved already. Still, he dutifully followed her instructions, and leaned up against the wall to get comfortable.

“It’s my experience that we have about 3 minutes at least to wait.” Erica said.

He turned and glared at her.“Were you ever going to tell me you thought you were pregnant?”

“Nope! If I was, I was and we’d figure it out. If not, no biggie.”

“I recall you and Boyd saying you wanted to adopt.”

Erica sighed.“Yeah Der, we did say that. We also talked, _a lot,_ and if there was ever a time that someone we loved wanted a baby, someone who couldn’t have on one their own, you know, perhaps due to two disco sticks and no-”

“Erica...” he warned.

“G- _lovebox,_ I was totally going to say glovebox, calm down. Seriously, we talked about it and in that situation, for family, maybe I might surrogate. Just putting that out there.”

Derek gulped. “Uhhh, duly noted.” Time to change the subject. Right the fuck now, before Erica and her imagination subjected him to any more clever euphemisms for genitalia, something he would swear was one of her favorite passtimes. “So, how’d you think Jackson's gonna take the news?”

“I don’t even know, just be ready to like, tackle him or something if he tries to run. If he doesn’t run he’s probably gonna be all emotional and want to hug. I’m more worried about how John’s gonna react, personally. She’s a daughter to him, y’know?”

“What about your dad?” Derek whispered, a look of fear crossing his face.

“Oh shit!”

They froze when the bathroom door opened.

Stiles walked out looking shell shocked. Derek would be worried about what his boyfriend (dammit, they really needed to figure out a title that didn't feel awkward) had been exposed to in there, but he was more concerned with the look on Lydia's face.

“Well?” Erica asked.

“I think we need Jackson, and someone better check Dad for his off duty piece, because she’s totally having a baby.”

 

 


	42. Not abandoned, but an explanation is due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People have asked, both in comments and in private, so here's what's up

I generally try to keep my private life off of here as much as I can, if I can, but since the real world has hampered my writing, I feel I should share, but first and foremost, I am not abandoning this. It's my first baby in this fandom, and I will never abandon it.

Late October saw my spouse losing his job on the same day a cousin was found murdered. My health issues got worse under stress. This winer, when it was fuck all cold, I spent an entire month covered in hives, and on orescription antihistamine when my body decided that yes, it was totally normal to have an allergic reaction to extreme cold.january and February also saw me working six straight weeks of al,ost sixty hour weeks. February sixteenth my mother fell and broke her leg on multiple places, and dislocating her ankle so severely that she was in bed for three weeks and in a wheel chair until the beginning of May. March was the extensive three year evaluations done for my middle child, who is autistic. Oh, also, cervical cancer, that took up most of my April and early May.

I adore writing, and have honestly been working on other projects here and there as the characters speak to me, as well as writing more in A Little Bird, but I haven't been forcing it. I had to step away and let the real world be my priority. Since I don't get paid to write, I needed to make sure that I was getting paid at my job, because I am the sole income for a family of five right now. I needed to take care of my mother, when she needed me.

I apologize for the wait, and if I lost readers, or lose readers, because of this, so be it, bit know that I appreciate the fuck out of all of you who stick around, and understand...

Luna


End file.
